No Vacancy
by StrigoiVii
Summary: It was just another crappy motel in another crappy town, or was it? Too tired, too much snow, and a haunted motel room makes Dean a very crabby man.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi everyone. Just a quick note to tell you I have no idea where this story is going, but it will probably be a pretty dark place. Hope everyone enjoys.

No Vacancy

Chapter 1

Shivering. Intense, pain inducing shivering. That's what woke him up from the deep state of sleep he had been in, the uncontrollable shivering that was racking his body as he tried to sleep on yet another lumpy, uncomfortable motel bed under the ugliest, scratchiest comforter he'd ever seen or felt. It had been an overly long and tiring day filled with nothing but driving, and stressful driving at that. There was a blanket of very fresh, very wet and very heavy snow that had fallen very fast over the entire state, leaving the roads a slippery mess and damn near unsafe to travel on. They had become increasingly harder to navigate as the day drew on, and after too many hours of slipping and sliding as he white-knuckled the steering wheel and scowled every time Sam made some asinine comment about his driving skills, he'd just decided to pack it in and call it a night. The damn body they needed to salt and burn would be there tomorrow, it sure as hell wasn't going anywhere.

The motel left more then a lot to be desired, but it was the only one they could find in the little shithole town they found themselves trapped in, so unfortunately for them, it would have to do. The décor had been unusual, even by their standards. Along with one of Dean's favorite vices, the coin operated vibrating bed, the walls were adorned with bazaar paintings of half or totally naked women and men in rather 'interesting' poses, making them both wonder what kind of clientele stayed in this place on a regular basis. Dean was never one to frown on pornography of any kind, but this was just downright creepy, and it took a lot to creep out a Winchester. The bedding would have been more comfortable if it had been a burlap sack, and the sheets could probably be used to sand drywall if absolutely necessary, but it was warm, relatively clean, and damn it if Dean wasn't so exhausted from head to toe he was about ready to pass out. Well, the room **had** been warm, but the shivering told a different story now.

"Sammy…I think I have a fever, I can't stop shaking," he called to his brother in the dark room, feeling his own forehead and pulling his hand away in total surprise when he felt how cold his skin was. He didn't feel sick, and his own body temperature confirmed that.

"Me too man, I think the heat's out," Sam replied through his own obviously chattering teeth back to Dean, wishing he hadn't needed to exert the energy to speak.

"Dude, it's like friggin' twenty below zero outside. We can not stay in this room all night if it has no heat," Dean bitched as he forced himself out from under the pathetic excuse for a blanket and started searching for his clothes in the dark, having no idea where they'd ended up since he was too tired to do anything but throw them on the floor somewhere and crawl into bed, even if it had only been eight o'clock in the evening.

Sam curled himself up tighter in his own covers as he listened to his brother fumble around the room, perfectly content to let Dean fix the lack of heat problem himself, not really wanting to leave what little warmth he still had underneath his blankets, which in actuality was none. He considered rolling over and turning on the light to aid Dean in his quest for clothing, but that would require throwing the blanket off his frigid body and exposing himself to the freezing temperatures in the room, and that just wasn't a very appealing idea. Dean had been the one that wanted to stop so bad, so in Sam's opinion, that made the whole thing Dean's problem. The guilt hit him like a frying pan to the back of the head when he heard the crash, the bang, then the swearing.

"Son-of-a-Bitch!" The angry, pain-riddled curse filled every inch of the room, prompting Sam to quickly unbury himself from his sanctuary and finally flip the switch to shed some light on the scene. He jumped from the bed when he got a good look at his brother laying on the questionably clean carpet with his head resting against an overturned chair.

"Shit Dean, you're bleeding," he stated, rather shocked as he watched the blood flow from his scalp but reduce itself to a trickle as it ran down his brother's forehead and start to pool in his eye as he lay on the floor. He knew Dean had run into something, and run into it hard, but he didn't think it had been hard enough to actually draw blood. "Damn it, that looks like it may need stitches."

"Ya think?" He exclaimed, the irritation in his voice evident as he angrily threw what looked very much like a size jumbo shoe across the room, promptly followed by another one right behind it. "God damn it Sam, did you have to leave you're ginormous monster sneakers smack dab in the middle of the room for me to trip on and split my head open like a monkey with a coconut?" He couldn't hide the anger he felt, not only from the pain, but from the unbearable cold in the room.

"Well, at least you're not freezing anymore," Sam joked, knowing Dean was not going to find it very amusing as he made his way into the bathroom.

"The hell I'm not! It's so cold in here, I can see my own breath," he damn near screamed at Sam, who was already next to him, pressing a towel hard against his bloodied head, the stinging eliciting a hiss that he couldn't help but let out that only made Sam feel worse. "Give me that god damn towel."

Dean ripped the cloth from Sam's hand and shoved it hard against his skull as he pulled himself off the rather sticky feeling carpet, not really wanting to know why his skin stuck to it the way it did and instantly feeling the need to shower, determined to find his clothes and complete his mission of getting some heat back into the room. Finally locating his jeans and pulling them on one handed after what seemed like a monumental effort, he decided he really didn't need a shirt and opted for just his leather jacket instead. Slipping one arm at a time through the sleeves in order to keep one hand against the still seeping gash in his forehead, he pulled the heavy coat up over his shoulders and headed out the door barefoot into the freezing night.

He stormed across the snow covered parking lot with one arm holding his jacket closed while the other was still pressing the bloodied towel over his head, totally mindless of the cold wind whipping against his barely protected body and nipping at his exposed toes as he made his way to the deserted looking office, praying to god someone was actually inside. He shoved himself through the door, marched up to the counter, and relentlessly rang the bell over and over until a bleary-eyed barely twenty kid stepped out from the back, rubbing his eyes and throwing Dean a disinterested yawn before acknowledging he was even there.

"Can I help you?" He finally decided to address his obviously irritated client, totally oblivious to the fact that blood was streaming down his face.

"You sure can…uh…Brian," he started, noting the clerk's name and doing his best to hide his seething anger as his head throbbed under the nearly soaked motel towel. "Apparently, we have no heat in our room. Normally, I wouldn't complain about something so trivial, but since it's cold enough to freeze this blood pouring from my head into ice, the blood that's pouring from my head because we have no heat in our room, I really think you need to either come take a look at it or give us another room."

Brian looked at Dean like he had suddenly grown a second head before answering him, "Dude, did you make sure the heater was plugged in before you came all the way over here?"

Dean was not in any kind of mood for stupid questions, and the kid had just asked him the mother of all idiotic ones. He dropped the towel from his head and leaned over the counter to stare the barely out of his teens night clerk directly in the eye as his blood snaked down his face and landed in pooled droplets on the counter between them. "Do I look like a moron to you? It was working when we went to sleep, so unless gremlins came in and unplugged the damn heater while we were sleeping, I think we have a problem… Brian." _Ok, maybe gremlins wasn't such a far-fetched idea, but the kid didn't know that._

"Jeez, sorry. You don't gotta bleed all over the counter dude." Brian stared at the blood like he'd never seen the real thing before, and he was somewhat fascinated by it. "So, what do you want me to do about it?"

Another stupid question that Dean felt deserved a punch in the face for an answer came out, and he could feel his arm cock back in preparation of splitting some knuckles on the kid's chin, until he felt the strong hand around his elbow holding him back. He'd never heard Sam come through the door, and lucky for the dumb shit in charge for the night he did. "I checked the heater, it's broken. I think you're gonna have to give us another room," he calmly informed him as he pushed Dean to the side, the entire right half of his face now a bloody mess.

"No can do fellas, gave you the last one I had, Honeymoon Suite," he snickered as he eyed the two men in front of him, both half dressed in the freezing cold.

It was Sam's turn to lean into Brian's face now, keeping himself between his brother and the soon-to-be-deceased clerk, at least if Dean had his way he would be. "You see that guy over there, he's my brother. You see that blood all over his face, it tends to put him in a rather foul mood. You see that key still hanging up there on your board, that looks like an empty room to me, so unless you want me to let him loose all over you, you may want to consider giving us that room. It's three a.m., you can't honestly be holding it for someone, can you?"

Brian turned and stared at the key in question, almost forgetting it was hanging on the peg behind him. His parents owned the crappy motel, and he was only doing them a favor by running the place for them for a week while the were having fun in the sun in Mexico. He'd grown up here, and in his entire life had never been in that room, not once. His parents had forbid it, warning him to never, ever, let anyone stay in it. Right now though, what his parents didn't know wouldn't hurt them, and hell, they weren't due back for another five days anyway. He'd let them have the room, pocket the cash, and everyone would be happy.

"Ok, it's all yours," he cheerily announced as he tossed Sam the key. " Turn right out the door and down the hall four doors to the end. Checkouts at eleven, but you can have it until three for the inconvenience. My apologies, and enjoy the rest of your night, Oh, and don't worry, I won't charge you for the towel either."

Dean stood there staring at the kid, not really believing how arrogant he was, and Sam knew he was just about ready to jump the counter and rip his head off. Pain tended to do that to his brother, make him just a little more then a little irritable. Sam turned to leave, grabbing Dean by the jacket and dragging him out and back into the cold with him before he could say another word and shoved the key into Dean's bloodied hand. The key felt like it was on fire, giving him a momentary jolt when he touched it, but as quickly as he felt it, it was gone, leaving him with an unnatural chill coursing up and down his spine.

"I'll get our shit, the car, and the first aid kit, you just go to the room and start cleaning out that cut. It is definitely going to need a few stitches," Sam observed, noting the fact that the wound was still bleeding freely, even after all this time, telling Sam it must be deep.

Dean said nothing, just stared at his brother like he wasn't really sure who he was, then at the key, then back at Sam, the stupefied look never leaving his face.

"Hello, Earth to Dean…" he snapped his fingers in his brother's face when he just stood there, jacket wide open as the howling wind pounded against his bare flesh. "DEAN, what the hell's the matter with you? Do you have a concussion or something?" It was the scream that finally caught Dean's attention, breaking him from whatever hypnotized state he'd fallen into.

"I'm fine Sammy. Don't forget my knife dude, under my pillow," he reminded him, not wanting to be without his weird form of security blanket.

"I won't. Get your ass to the room before that blood starts dripping on your jacket. You know how hard it is to get blood out of leather," Sam noted, physically turning Dean around and shoving him in the direction he needed to go while he turned and went in the other.

He'd damn near sprinted back to the room, the cold making his legs go as fast as their length would take him. He gathered up what few things they'd actually brought in with them when they'd gotten there and tossed them onto the seat next to him before turning the engine over and crawling the short distance to the new room, the parking lot buried in what looked like six inches of snow already, and it continued to fall. Sam killed the engine just outside the door, not really sure he was in a parking spot, but figuring it really didn't matter anyway. Who'd know with all the snow on the ground. He sat there for a second in bewilderment as he watched his brother standing just outside the door with the key dangling from the lock, but making no effort to go inside. He grabbed the laptop and first aid kit and headed for the door, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with his brother.

"Dean, you gonna stand out here all night, or do you want to go inside and get warm?" He asked him as he turned the key and threw the door open wide, not waiting for Dean to enter.

The room was nearly as cold as the one they'd just left, but when Sam flipped on the heater, he knew they were in business. The hot blast felt good on his face, and it wouldn't be long before the entire space was toasty warm. Well, that it would be if Dean would come inside and shut the damn door. Sam was starting to freak just a little at the sudden change in his brother's behavior. _'Shit, how hard did he hit his head?" _He silently grabbed Dean by the arm and pulled him in, slamming the door hard behind him.

"What the hell is the matter with you Dean?"

"Sorry Sam, but my head really hurts," he admitted, albeit unwillingly. For some reason he just couldn't stop the words from coming out.

"Come on, get your jacket off and take a seat on the toilet. I'll stitch that up and you can get some sleep." _Great, he never admits he's in pain._

Both men turned and walked the short distance to the tiny, sorry excuse for a bathroom, neither one of them noticing the blood puddles on the floor slowly absorbing into the carpet and disappearing like they'd never been there in the first place.

End Notes: Comments are always appreciated, even if they are not nice ones. Thanks for reading my weird thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sam slid Dean's jacket off his chilled body with ease and tossed it onto the nearest bed before resting his hands on his brother's firmly each one of his shoulders as they made their way into the bathroom, Sam walking with a meaningful purpose and Dean just shuffling along like a mindless zombie with no real destination in sight. If Sam hadn't stopped his brother's aimless gait, Dean would have walked directly into the toilet and probably fallen over it and through the wall behind it. Sam turned him around and was shocked to see nothing but a blank stare coming back at him, but not really at him. It was more like it went straight through him and was focused on nothing, and Sam found it a little unsettling. Without saying a word, he forced Dean to sit down on the closed toilet seat before squatting down directly in front of him as he grabbed him by the chin and forced his face up to his own, trying to look him directly in the eye as he spoke to him in as firm a voice as he could muster.

"Dean, are you in there?" He tentatively asked, desperately trying to figure out what the hell had happened in the last few minutes that had turned his brother into what appeared to be a walking vegetable. His stare was blank and unfocused, making Sam doubt it was just a mild concussion. "Dean, will you talk to me please…you're really starting to scare me."

Sam's words hit him like an open-handed slap in the face, snapping Dean back into some semblance of reality as his eyes finally found some focus when they met his brother's concerned stare. He was fully aware of what was going on around him, but he just couldn't seem to find the strength inside him to really care at the moment. He'd been letting things go in one ear and out the other since Sam had shoved that key at him and pushed him towards the door, and if he really thought about it, he could still feel the stinging burn in his palm from its initial contact. He turned his hand over to examine it, fully expecting to see an imprint of the fob attached to the key ring seared into the skin, but he found nothing. Even the blood that had been partially dried on his hand was gone where it had made contact, leaving a small spot of clean, dry flesh behind. As odd as Dean found that, he really had no interest in mentioning it.

"Sam…" he started, then paused for an excruciatingly long moment to gather some kind of coherent thought, the pause being far too long for Sam's liking to wait any longer.

"Dean, are you alright? Do I need to take you to an emergency room to have your head examined? You are really starting to freak me out," Sam's voice had gone for partially reserved to slightly panicked, to damn near scared in the few minutes they'd been in the bathroom, and Dean knew if he didn't get his shit together, Sam would do just that. He'd pile him in the car and drive him to the nearest hospital through what looked like more then a foot of fresh snow on the ground, and Dean would probably just let him, having no energy to protest.

"My feet are cold…I can't feel my toes…my head hurts. I just wanna go to back to sleep Sammy, please…" he'd finally spit out, and Sam let out the breath he'd been holding since he'd asked Dean the question, thankful his brother had actually been listening and was still there with him, for the most part.

Sam had been so concerned about the free-flowing, bloody gash in his brother's head he hadn't thought twice about the fact that Dean had run from the room in anger without anything covering his feet, and he was pretty sure the temperature outside had dropped to well below zero now that the snow had finally started letting up. The short trek through the icy, snow covered parking lot had merely gotten his feet wet, but standing in the howling winds just outside the motel room door the entire time Sam had been gathering their stuff was another, and when he actually took a good look down, he was not really surprised to see that Dean's feet were an unhealthy shade of white, but it upset him anyway, and he couldn't help but let his brother know it.

"Damn it Dean, why didn't you put your shoes on before you went hauling ass out of the room like someone was making off with the damn Impala or something," Sam angrily scolded him like he was some kind of disobedient child, knowing he'd be spending the next couple hours trying to ward off a full blown case of frostbite after sewing his brother's head closed. _'Ok, the head thing wasn't his fault.' _He'd thought to himself after he'd said it when the tone of the comment left him with a tinge of guilt. It had been his shoes Dean had tripped over in the dark, hadn't it?

"I'm sorry Sam, I didn't think," he'd meekly tossed his apology, almost as if he could sense what his little brother was thinking and needing to take all of the blame on himself.

"Forget it, let's just get your feet warmed up, then work on that head so you can get back to sleep," Sam tried to not sound as irritated as he turned from his brother and started running the water in the bathtub, carefully adjusting the temperature to what he thought would be hot but tolerable.

He didn't bother removing Dean's pants, he just picked up his legs, turned him to face the steaming bath, and quickly dropped his feet in, fully expecting some kind of pained outpouring of curse words at the sudden, extreme change of temperature but getting nothing in return other than that blank stare again before he just decided keeping his eyes open wasn't worth the trouble anymore. _'Probably a good sign, it must not have hurt' _he thought, praying for just frost nip instead of the whole damn bite. With his feet now fully submerged in the hot water and the warming process started, Sam attempted to deal with the damage at his brother's opposite end.

Saying the bathroom was tiny would have been an extreme understatement, the small space between the tub on the left, the toilet in the middle, and the small sink on the right barely a foot apart each, but making it much easier for Sam to do what he needed to do quickly and cleanly, With Dean's body facing the bath, Sam grabbed one of the rolled up towels from the rack above the toilet and leaned him back, resting his shoulder blades against the sink with the towel as a pillow so that his head lolled back into the bowl. He turned on the water and waited for it to warm before starting the daunting task of cleaning the laceration out, the instant he'd brushed the wet washcloth against it causing another cascade of blood to pour, marring the white porcelain down the side of the sink. Sam stitched quickly but carefully, not very concerned with leaving a scar since it would be far enough behind his brother's hair line to go unseen anyway. Dean had remained silent through the entire ordeal, not once cringing or grimacing in any pain, his breathing the only indication he was still in the land of the living.

"Dean, help me out a little here, would ya?" Sam asked his brother but doubting he was listening. To his surprise, he had been.

"You done? Can I go to bed now?" He mumbled, desperate to be in a bed at the moment.

"Not yet, I need to get your feet out of the tub and make sure they're not frostbit. You gotta take your jeans off man, the pant legs are soaked."

"What, no dinner first? I'm not that kind of guy, you know?" His feeble attempt at a joke was just the thing Sam needed to hear, the tension in his body starting to fade when Dean attempted to return to some sort of normal.

"Yeah, right. What are you, a born again virgin?"

Dean was too tired to respond, so he just pulled his feet from the warm water all on his own and planted them on the battered bath rug gracing the tile floor before he slowly stood and dropped his jeans to his ankles, kicking them to the side as he stepped out of them and into the warmth of the room beyond. The bed directly in front of him was calling his name, and he wasted no time flopping onto it like a dead fish now that his entire body was blessedly warm. Sam followed right behind him, not entirely confident his brother would make it all the way across the room without falling on his face, especially if the last couple hours were any indication of his ability to function normally. The last thing he needed was Dean nose diving into the footboard. One set of stitches in his head was enough for today.

"Well, I don't think you made it all the way to frostbite, thank god," Sam informed his half sleeping brother as he dried his dripping feet off. "Guess you'll get to keep your toes for a little while longer."

"Hell, that's the best news I've heard all day, little brother. You got any Tylenol in that bag of yours over there? I think I'll be good once my head stops throbbing."

"I think I can dig you up a couple, just as soon as you crawl under those blankets."

Dean didn't need to be told twice, and before Sam could even open his bag to look inside, Dean was curled up under the covers, comfortably warm, dry, and ready for sleep again. He fumbled with the pill bottle as he walked back into the bathroom with one of the plastic stock cups all motel rooms seemed to have, his brow furrowing when his eyes fell to the side of the sink. He'd been sure there was blood streaked down it where Dean's head had been bleeding into it when he'd walked out behind his brother, but the sink was now totally clean with no bloody stains in sight. Sam had been pretty sure he hadn't cleaned the basin out yet, but he must have, because Dean sure as hell hadn't done it. He just shook it off, filled the cup with cold water, flipped off the light and returned to his brother's side.

By the time Sam finally had the pills in his hand and water to down them with in a glass, Dean was already deep into his sleep and snoring lightly. He just dropped the loose pills back into the bottle, left the water on the nightstand between the two beds, and prepared himself for sleep now that he was just exhausted as Dean apparently was. At nearly five a.m., he finally crawled into his own bed, turned off the light and curled himself up in his own blanket, sleep coming over him by time his head hit the pillow.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The clock next to his bed flashed 12:00 in bold, red numbers, leaving Dean with absolutely no idea what time it was when he'd finally dragged himself up and out of bed, the only indication it was daytime coming from the dim light filtering in through the tiny bathroom window. His head was no longer pulsing with the beat of his own heart and all his fingers and toes were still attached to their respective appendages. All in all so far, it was shaping up to be a good day. He shuffled into the bathroom with only one eye half open and kicked the toilet seat up to take care if his usual morning business, fully intending on going right back to bed when he was done. Whether it be morning or afternoon he really didn't care, if Sam wasn't up, he wasn't staying up either. He dropped the seat and the lid back down, turned the few inches to the sink and turned on the water to wash his hand.

The water was icy cold as it flowed from the tap, but he didn't really care. The water may be cold, but his bed was nice and warm, and he was anxious to get back under his blankets. He stuck his hands underneath the faucet and finally opened his eyes in search of the soap, the reddish tinge to the water swirling down the drain catching his eye before anything else. He glanced down at his hands first and stared at them in stunned horror when he saw that not only were they covered in blood, but so were his forearms. It was still somewhat sticky, indicating to Dean that it was rather fresh, and he couldn't help but search his own body for the source.

The logical first place to check had been his head, but when he touched the row of stitches Sam had put into it the night before, he knew they were all still intact when his fingers came away clean. Looking in the mirror, he was even more surprised to see blood splattered across is face and down his chest, the stickiness when he felt it starting to make his stomach churn. He searched everywhere, but could find no open, bleeding wounds on himself, and as much as he didn't want to, he knew he'd have to wake Sam.

Dean walked slow, but in the confined space of the room he was at Sam's side in a matter of seconds, and even without looking under the covers, he suddenly knew where the blood bath had come from. His hands were shaking as he reached for the blanket and he jerked it back hard and fast, the initial shock not setting in immediately, but taking a few moments for his brain to process what he was seeing.

Sam lay there flat on his back with his eyes wide open and fixed on the ceiling, their dead stare not coming from the usual soft bluish-green Dean would recognize anywhere, but a harsh, evil yellow-red that was all too familiar to him. He'd seen that gaze before, when his own father had stared him down through it, and those were definitely eyes he would never forget as long as he lived. His brother's body was covered in blood from his neck to his waist, the crimson flow obviously coming from the numerous gaping holes that had been cut into his upper body by a very large knife, the knife that belonged to Dean himself and was still buried in Sam's chest where it had delivered the killing blow directly to his still beating heart.

The longer Dean stood there speechless, the harder it became to look away, not at the carnage that it appeared he himself had caused, but at the eyes, the eyes that had been dead seconds before but were now somehow filled with evil life. Sam's body jerked upright faster then Dean could process what he was seeing, and when Sam's bloody hand locked itself around Dean's throat and started choking him, he'd pretty much decided to just let Sam kill him. He made no effort to struggle or fight, he just let his brother choke the life out of him, knowing he'd failed in his efforts to protect Sam from himself, like he'd promised their father he would.

"Dean…DEan…DEAn,,,DEAN!" Each time the name had been said, it was said with more and more urgency, the final scream accompanied by a very hard crack across his cheek and a violent shake.

Dean's eyes jerked open hard and he sucked in a deep breath, totally unaware that he hadn't been breathing the entire time Sam had been screaming at him, trying to wake him from whatever was going on inside his head. He stared hard at the panicked eyes of his little brother boring into him, their familiar hue fully returned to what he'd expected them to be. The memories of what Dean had just seen suddenly flooded back into his head when he stared back at Sam, their images so vivid they made stench of blood fill his nostrils, which immediately made his stomach start churning. He pushed Sam out of the way, nearly knocking him hard onto the floor as he made a mad dash for the bathroom, firmly slamming the door and locking it behind him. He barely had time to force the lid up before his stomach emptied what little contents it had, the sight of the toilet itself bringing the recollections to the forefront of his mind one more time, making his stomach contract even more. He could hear the constant pounding on the door and the yelling of his name from the other side and knew Sam was desperate to get in, but he just didn't think he could face his brother yet, not until he could calm himself down and push the nightmare out of his head. When he was sure his stomach had nothing left to give, he leaned forward and unlocked the door, then slumped back against the tub and waited for Sam to barge in and start his inquisition.

Dean had barely had time to rest his head against the wall before the door slowly drifted open and Sam had peeked his head inside, the simple act of unlocking it a clear invitation to Sam that it was alright for him to enter now. As much as he wanted to kick the door open and burst inside, he opted for the calmer approach now that he was finally back in control of himself. Dean was obviously distressed enough without Sam making it worse, so calm it would have to be.

"Dean…" Sam started to say, and Dean knew it was the question he always asked first, like the damn broken record he was.

"Yeah Sam… I'm ok." He said it, but in Sam's opinion, he looked far from ok. He was deathly pale and covered in sweat, and even in the warm air of the room, Sam could see he was starting to shiver a little. _'Thank god we're not in that other room, at least this one is hotter then…'_

"Is it your head? Is that what made you sick? Damn it, I knew you had to have a concussion," Sam's questions broke Dean's thought process the second he'd asked them, the comment in his head that never made it from his lips already forgotten.

"Must be," he answered, thanking god again that he had something else to blame the whole episode on other than what it had actually been. No way was he sharing that little tidbit of information with Sam right now, or ever for that matter.

"Dude, you weren't breathing, maybe you should see…"

"No. I said I'm ok," he cut Sam off, knowing where his train of thought was going yet again. "I must have been choking on my own…never mind, just help me up man."

Sam extended a hand to Dean, who grabbed it in his own clammy one and dragged himself up off the floor while Sam guided him back to his bed. He stole a glance at the nightstand directly in front of him, the shock of what he saw making his knees started to buckle underneath him, and it took all the strength Sam had to keep him from crashing to the floor. He felt the bile burning in his throat as the standard issue motel alarm clock on the nightstand prominently flash 12:00 mockingly in his face.

"Shit…" Sam cried out, almost dropping his brother who had somehow harmlessly fallen onto his bed.

"Sam, what time is it?" He really didn't care, but he asked the question anyway as he threw an arm over his face, wanting to know how long they'd been in the room and wondering if he'd ever get any rest before dawn broke.

"It's only six. I'll fix the clock, just try and get some sleep, and lay on your stomach this time so you don't start choking again. That scared the shit out of me."

"Yeah, how the hell do you think I felt?"

Dean rolled onto his side, turning his back to his brother as he just closed his eyes, aware for the first time that the throbbing of his brain had started to return, and once again, it didn't take long for him to start drifting off to sleep in spite of it. He wasn't sure where it was coming from, or if it was actually real, but he'd say he'd heard it plain as day before finally drifting off into the dark and he heard nothing else.

"Welcome home …stay with me..." a soft woman's voice whispered in his hear, then he heard a baby crying.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Dean slowly woke to find himself lying on his stomach in his bed with his head buried under a pillow and his body sprawled out wide from head to toe, covering just about every inch of the remarkably soft mattress he'd found himself on. His head still throbbed in tune to the beat of his own heart, but it was a far cry from last night, or actually this morning, right before he'd fallen into a mercifully dreamless sleep. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he felt the pulsing going on inside his skull, thankful that he was really awake and not in some screwed up nightmare realm again. He was vaguely aware of the clicking noises coming from the other side of the room, and through heavy lidded eyes that refused to open, called his brother's name and patiently waited for an answer.

"Sam," he said in a slight mumble, sleep still thick in his dry, cracking voice. He'd obviously been sleeping with his mouth open all day, and he had a field of cotton in it to prove it.

With the curtains pulled shut tight, no light entered the room, save for the dinky lamp illuminating the even dinkier table across the room that Sam had perched himself in front of, attempting to surf the web until his brother had decided to come out of his self imposed coma. "Dean, you finally awake?" He asked, the unexpected sound of his older brother's raspy voice breaking the silence and making him jump somewhat.

"I think so…what time is it?" Dean groaned out as he rolled onto his back and forced his eyes open, grateful the room was still dark.

"It's almost two in the afternoon…"

"Shit! Why'd you let me sleep so late Sam?"

"Because you needed to Dean. You tossed and turned for hours once you finally fell back to sleep this morning, and when you finally went still, I decided I wasn't waking you up until you were ready to all on your own. You didn't see yourself last night man, it was scary, and you needed the rest."

He hated it when Sam was right, but he couldn't argue with his logic. He had felt like shit last night, err, this morning, and in all honesty, he could really go right back to sleep right now, if it weren't so damn late in the day and they didn't need to get on the road again. "Thanks Sam," he finally offered, and Sam knew it had been the right decision.

"You feeling any better? How's your head?" Sam asked, and Dean knew it was only a matter of time before Sam brought it up.

"I think so. My head feels like elephants are dancing on my brain, but I'll live. You got any new info over there?" He inquired, eager to change the subject. He'd nearly forgot that they were on their way to Iowa to meet Bobby for what was supposed to be a simple salt and burn. He figured it was because the old man just missed them, because let's face it, Bobby could do a simple salt and burn in is sleep.

"Nah, I can't get a connection in here. I tried calling Bobby, but my phone's not working in here either. If you're up to it, why don't you hit the shower while I pack up the car? It's only another couple hours to Iowa. If we get a move on, we can make it there by dark."

"I just want to get the hell out of here, so yeah, I'm up to it," Dean groused as he sat up and planted his feet on the floor, pausing in a sitting position for a minute with his elbows resting on his knees and his face in his hands, feeling Sam's constant stare on him the entire time. He got up slowly and carefully as Sam continued to examine him and shuffled his way to the bathroom without grabbing his bag, silently shutting the door behind him. He let the dizziness that slowly crept into his head since he'd stood start to pass before turning on the hot water as he called out to Sam before stepping in. "I'll be out in fifteen, Sam. Leave my shit on my bed."

Sam laughed at Dean's comment, knowing full well he'd never even brought Dean's bag into the room, and pulled on his coat to venture outside to get it. His mouth dropped to the floor the second he opened the door, and if it had been summer, he probably would have had a few flies taking up residence inside. Everything was white…everything. The ground, the trees, the road, the buildings, the cars, all covered in white. Sometime during their sleeping away of the day, it had started snowing again, dropping what looked like another foot down on them. If Sam didn't know right where he'd left the Impala, he wouldn't even be able to find that either. The snow may have stopped, but the winds had picked up, blowing the fresh powder around and making it near white-out conditions. Sam just shook his head, exited the room, and made his way along the side of the building to the office, hoping to see anyone in there but Brian. Sam always was a hoping man, even when his hopes were dashed more than fulfilled, and this would be one of those times, because the second he was through the door, Brian's face was before his own.

"Hey there. You and your brother have a nice night, or day?" He asked tentatively, anxious for an answer.

"Yeah, it was fine. Listen, what's the word on the weather, and the roads?" Sam desperately wanted to know.

"Well, it's pretty much going to be like this until morning. They're calling for near blizzard conditions all night. No new snow, but plenty of old stuff whipping around. Total count right now in a full nineteen inches. Plows aren't coming out this way until it's over. Sorry to say, I think you may be stranded here, at least until tomorrow."

"Great, just great. I assume that means we can have that room for another night?"

"You really want to stay in it?" Brian curiously asked.

"What choice do we really have? We can't go anywhere, can we?" Sam pointed out what should have been obvious to the guy.

"Good point. It'll be another twenty-five, stay as long as you like," he smiled wide.

Sam pulled his wallet from his pocket, tossed the kid a twenty and a five, and stuffed it right back where he'd pulled it from, irritated at the entire situation. Dean was in no mood to stay idle for an entire evening with nothing to do, of that he was sure. Top that with the fact that they had no food with them, and they were stranded miles from anywhere, it was shaping up to be a great evening. "Hey, is there anywhere to get anything to eat around here?" He had to ask, figuring the answer to be a no, but asking anyway.

Brian pointed towards the door and across what Sam vaguely remembered being the street to what looked like a building in the distance, but through all the white, he just couldn't be too sure. "The diner will be open. The owners live above it, and since the motel's full, they'll be cooking. Food's not the greatest, but at least it's food."

Sam shook his head, pocketed the key, and turned to leave, throwing the kid a thanks before walking out the door, never seeing the ass stuff Sam's cash into his pocket. As he walked quickly back to the Impala and unburied it to get Dean's bag from the seat where he'd thrown it, he cringed at the thought of telling Dean that they weren't leaving, at least not tonight, and from the sounds of it, not tomorrow either. If the plows weren't coming out until morning to dig them out, they could very well be there all day. That was assuming the plows did come out tomorrow to dig them out. He wasn't going to hold his breath for that one.

With the wind biting at his nose and hands, he finally got one of the doors open and grabbed his brother's stuff, slamming the door shut a little harder then he'd meant to before hurrying back inside, his own body chilled to the bone now. The room was blessedly warm inside, and Sam reveled in it. At least they had plenty of heat. He'd only been inside the room barely two seconds when he heard his brother scream his name, and he prayed the door to the bathroom was unlocked when he tossed his brother's duffle to the side and burst in. 

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Steadying himself with a hand on the wall next to him, he lifted one foot slowly off the floor and stepped inside, then carefully brought in the other and drew back the shower curtain as the hot spray hit him square in the chest, shocking his system momentarily until his body adjusted to the temperature of the water. He stood there letting it wash over him, letting the heat loosen up his stiff muscles and joints until they stopped screaming in protest at him for even walking around. He tucked his head under the near scalding shower spray, only remembering there were stitches in his it when he felt the burning in his scalp. Skipping the shampoo for obvious reasons, he grabbed the bar of soap Sam had apparently left behind and mindlessly started lathering himself at the top, working his way down the entire length of his overly aching body until he'd nearly reached his knees.

'_Please, stay with me….I need you with me…'_

The sound of the voice shocked him the instant he'd thought he'd heard it whispering in his ear, sending the little motel bar of soap crashing to the floor and sliding toward the drain as he jerked his body upright way too fast, smashing his head on the shower head nearly hard enough to put him out like a broken string of Christmas lights. He grabbed for the pipe the sprayer was attached to in the hopes of stopping his impending crash to the bottom of the tub, and stood there for a long second while the stars finally stopped dancing in front of his eyes. Confident he could stand on his own without holding on for dear life, he gently felt his scalp for any new damage, and breathed a huge sigh of relief when his hand came away clean, thankful he'd never have to explain to Sam what the hell had just happened, since he really didn't have a clue himself anyway. He knelt down to retrieve his bar he'd dropped before he slipped and fell on it, but the second he touched it, he heard the voice again.

"_Pleeeaaassseee….stay with me…please…'_

"SAM!" he nearly shrieked, ripping the shower curtain back to reveal the very empty bathroom behind it. Big mistake. Sam had burst through the door before Dean could make any effort to draw the curtain back, the seriously scared look on his face unable to mistake.

"What? What's wrong?" Sam screamed right back at his brother, who was standing in the shower naked and soaked with the curtain pulled back, looking like someone had put the fear of god into him.

'_Think fast Dean…' _"Dude, I called your name, like, three times. Uhhh, can you bring me my bag? I need my toothbrush?"

"That scream was all for your toothbrush? Damn it Dean, you scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry, I seem to be doing that to you a lot lately, don't I?" He apologized as he dropped his eyes to the floor, no longer wanting to hold Sam's gaze.

"Yeah, you do. Hurry up in there, we need to talk," Sam informed him, and he really didn't like the way that sounded one bit. Dean shut off the water and reached for a towel long before Sam could even take a step out of the steam filled room, the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach making itself known at the tone of Sam's voice. He grabbed one of the neatly folded towels off the rack and wrapped it around his still dripping body, shooting Sam a look that said 'Just start talking now'.

"What," he finally did bark out when Sam just stood there silently staring at him. "You're creeping me out with that look Sam, you're not suddenly queer eye, are you?"

"Real funny," he retorted, "It doesn't look like we're going anywhere anytime soon. It started snowing again after we went back to sleep this morning. There's a full foot and a half of snow on the ground, and not a plow in sight until, umm, maybe tomorrow if we're lucky."

"You gotta be kidding me? Man, we were supposed to be in Iowa already. Bobby's gonna be pissed. Did you try calling him yet?"

"No. I just went to the office to get the room for another night. Get dressed, there's a diner across the road we can get something to eat at, and we can call him from there."

Dean dragged himself from the shower, his feet landing on the soaking wet mini-rug just outside and really hoped it stayed under his feet. He dried quickly and started digging through his bag in search of something, anything warm and clean to wear. Clean he could find easily, warm and clean was another story. The room was pretty balmy, but he was still chilled, and chalked it up to it being fresh from the shower fresh. Sam watched him painstakingly draw a shirt over his head and slowly pull on a pair of jeans, pretty sure he saw a slight waver in his stance when bent over before deciding to sit down instead. He huffed as he watched his brother meticulously pull on his socks and shoes like he was new to the task, one after another seemingly becoming more complicated until he was finally, thankfully, ready to go. He dragged on his coat, ran a towel over his still wet hair one more time, and finally motioned for the door.

"Ready?" He asked, throwing him that Dean smile.

"Dude, you look like total shit. Are you sure you're ok?"

"Would you stop asking, please? I am fine Sam, F.I.N.E. fine." Dean really thought he meant it, and he was going to prove it too. He was the first one out of the room and into the driving winds, barely able to see three feet in front of him.

He felt it when he passed through the doorway and into the harsh air outside. It started as a flutter in his stomach at first, but with each step he took, it progressed into something more. By the time he'd made it to the Impala, which wasn't parked that far away, he couldn't help but wrap one arm around his midsection as his body dropped hard onto the ground, the free hand grabbing onto his black, metal girlfriend doing nothing to slow or stop his fall. No sooner had he dropped like a rock had the blinding pains shot through his head like bullets, and as hard as he tried, he could neither see nor hear anything. He just wrapped his arm around his stomach and laid there in nearly two feet of snow screaming in sheer agony and being unable to stop it.

He was only vaguely aware of his brother picking him up off the cold, hard ground and dragging him back inside, the act of movement bringing in the wave of nausea that accompanied the cramps riddling him, never once actually hearing his name as Sam screamed it over and over at him in what could only be described as a frantic state until he was back through the threshold and in the room again. He saw the red fluid that he knew had to be blood from the taste spew from his own mouth and adorn itself all over the wall he'd found himself face to face with as Sam slammed the door shut, and that seemed to make the excruciating pain slowly subside into just plain pain, then down to nearly nothing but that throbbing in his head again, the throbbing he'd started with. As quickly as it hit, it was gone like it had never happened in the first place, and unbelievably, Dean pulled himself up off the floor and onto the bed, totally drained and shivering slightly but seemingly none the worse for wear. Sam, on the other hand, was a different story.

"Jesus Christ Dean, what the hell was that? I gotta get you to a doctor. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm ok Sam, really, I feel alright now."

"Dean, you just spit blood all ov…" Sam words were silenced in is mouth the second he looked at the wall he knew Dean had decorated, not being able to find one red spot anywhere on it. He knew he hadn't been seeing things, the blood droplets still on Dean's chin and lower lip being the evidence he needed to prove he hadn't gone insane himself. But the wall, not a mark on it. "This is seriously fucked up Dean."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Once again, I find myself apologizing for my lack of attention to responding to the reviews. I am grateful to anyone that left one and hope you continue to do so, as I let them guide me in the direction I take my stories on occasion. Thank-you again for taking the time to leave them, and I am really sorry for not answering them.

Chapter 4

"This is seriously fucked up Dean," Sam stated, once he could actually force his brain to think in a straight line and not in some crazy zigzagging pattern that weaved in and out of sanity, now that his brother was no longer projecting bloodcurdling screams or spray painting the walls with his own body fluids, body fluids that had miraculously disappeared from wherever they had ended up after crossing his lips. Sam decided to leave that little detail out for the moment; at least until he knew what the hell was wrong with his Dean.

"I said I'm ok Sam, really," Dean responded as he threw his arm over his face, his voice soft and tired even to his own ears.

"No Dean, you are not 'ok'. You are far from 'ok'. 'Ok' people don't stop breathing in the middle of the night while they're sleeping, or double over in pain, clutching their stomachs and screaming at the top of their lungs in agony for no apparent reason, then start coughing up blood that seems to vanish when it hits a wall or the floor. You can lay there and argue with me all you want, but I'm telling you, you are not 'ok.' None of this is 'ok," Sam argued, his voice a mixture of fear and anger, and he hoped that small detail he had wanted to keep to himself that he accidentally let slip out in his fear went unnoticed by his brother.

"Ok," was the only thing Dean could think to say, and that really only succeeded in upsetting Sam even more.

"Dude, do you think this is funny? In twenty four years, I have never heard you scream like that…"

"Yeah, well you weren't there when the Thomas twins and I were…"

"DEAN, STOP! It scared the hell out of me. What the hell happened to you?" Sam demanded, his tone deadly serious.

"I don't know Sammy, but it's gone now. Really, except for a slight headache, I feel ok." '_Yeah, a slight headache that's about to make my brain meltdown and start oozing out my ear, ok.' _

"Yeah, sure. That's why you're still laying in the exact same spot you dragged yourself to with your feet still on the floor and your coat still on and an arm covering your eyes to hide your face, right? Contrary to what you may believe sometimes, I wasn't born yesterday Dean," Sam shot back, not believing one word coming from his brother's mouth, and Dean knew it.

Drawing in a deep breath, Dean lifted himself off the mattress and made a concerted effort to sit up, wanting more than anything to prove Sam wrong. He was ok, and damn it if he wasn't going to make Sam believe he was ok, even though his first attempt at that today hadn't gone exactly the way he had planned it to. With the coppery taste of blood lingering in his mouth, he really wanted nothing more than a cold glass of water to wash away the foul flavor assaulting his taste buds, and once he was fairly confident he could stand, he attempted just that and set his sights on the bathroom door.

The bathroom wasn't far, but when his vision started swimming the second he tried to rise, it may as well have been on the moon. Determined to remain upright, he blindly reached for the closest stable thing within his arm span to hold on to and just closed his eyes, waiting for the rotation of the room to slow or stop. He'd crack one eye open every couple seconds and noticed that instead of the tilt-a-whirl slowing down, somehow it seemed to be speeding up and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't stop it. The dizziness that was now permanently fixed in his head had made his knees start to buckle, and it was at that point that he realized the one and only stable thing he had somehow latched onto was Sam, who was now slowly guiding him back down to the spot he had started from. _'Ok, maybe I'm not ok'._

Sam said nothing as he took off his brother's boots one at a time, the resounding 'clunk' each one made as they hit the floor making Dean wince somewhat; not so much from pain but mostly from embarrassment; then rested his legs down on the bed with a stack of pillows under his ankles before crossing his own arms over his chest and waited for Dean to open his eyes. He could feel Sam's stare on him, but until he knew he could look at him without seeing three or four of him, he was keeping the lids down. The sound of his little brother's frustrated breathing next to him forced him to try, and much to his surprise, he seemed to be fine now. He met Sam's worried eyes with his own, and he could tell by the look on his brother's face exactly what was on his mind.

"Dean…" he said slowly and deliberately, "You need to see a doctor. You may have a pretty nasty concussion, or worse."

'_Yep, here we go,' _was what he wanted to say, but the tone of voice Sam used made Dean think twice about that. "Sam, what I really need is something to eat. We never stopped before we checked in, and whatever I did eat yesterday I puked up this morning anyway. We've been here for, what, an entire day now. Dude, no big surprise I can't see straight. I'm surprised you aren't falling over too." _'Damn, that sounded convincing,' _Dean thought, pretty proud of himself and sure Sam would believe every word.

"Once again Dean, not born yesterday," he argued, keeping his voice calm and cool.

'_Damn it! Try harder Dean,' _"I'm not stonewalling you man, honest to god. I really think I just need some food. Besides, where the hell are you gonna find a doctor right now anyway? We're snowed in, remember?" _"Yes, victory! Try arguing that one Sammy!'_

As much as he wanted to continue his argument, Sam knew he couldn't deny that logic. Dean was right, they were snowed in, and unless there was a physician in one of the other rooms, Sam was just shit out of luck. "Yeah, but…maybe there's…we could call…FINE! You win. But I swear Dean, if this doesn't stop after you get something in your stomach, I'm knocking on every door in this crappy motel until I find someone who knows something, anything about the human body. Doctor, vet, mortician, I don't give a shit which one, understand?"

"Yes, mother. Now go, please, before I shrivel up and die. Burger and fries, extra cheese and onions, oh, and maybe a piece of pie too. And grab a paper while you're at it, if we're stuck in this Podunk town, we may as well see what's going on in it."

"Anything else, master? You know, the longer you ramble, the longer it's going to take me to sled across the street," Sam barked at him with a frown. When Dean just shot him a finger, he grabbed his laptop, turned is back and walked out the door.

The wind was blowing hard and cold, but it had let up somewhat in the last few minutes, enough to actually see the diner across the street from where he stood. Sam stepped from the building out into the frosty air and trudged through the nearly knee deep snow slowly, the dense pack of the flakes making it heavy and hard to navigate through quickly. Once he was well away from the building, mother nature had seemed to give him a helping hand though, the strong winds whipping the freshly fallen powder in every direction enough so that it didn't accumulate as high on the ground, and each step Sam took, he found he feet only buried up to his ankles instead of his kneecaps. After what felt like the longest walk in his life, Sam finally reached the door of the diner, and stepped thankfully inside.

The little restaurant was pretty much deserted, every table and booth empty except for a little old couple that sat in the farthest corner that had pretty much ignored him when he had come in from the brutal elements outside. He was greeted by a big breasted, big smiled woman behind the counter that had seen a few too many summers under the hot, baking sun, making her appear much older than her actual years.

"Howdy there young man. I see you didn't get blown away coming across that street. Wind's pretty nasty today. Kitchen's wide open though, what can I getcha?" She asked in an overly jovial tone. Nice to see some people didn't turn into total psychotics when they were trapped in a blizzard with nowhere to go.

"Uh, yeah. Can I get a burger and fries, extra onions and cheese…aww, just make that two, and whatever kind of pie you may have back there?"

"Hoo Wee, you planning on eatin' all that by yourself? You look a little scrawny there to be packin' it away like that," she laughed again, and much to Sam's dismay, he was really starting to get annoyed. Overly friendly people and exceptionally foul moods never mixed well.

"Make it to go. I left my brother at the motel after I drew the short straw, thanks."

"Coming right up then," she said with a wink. "Have a seat, I'll bring it out to you in a jiffy."

Sam all but ignored the woman as he pulled his phone from his pocket and punched the number that would connect him to Bobby while he sat in a booth in a corner and opened his computer. '_Strong cell signal and decent wifi connection, who could ask for anything more?' _He thought as he listened to the ringing on the other end of the line as the laptop ran through its startup, the welcome screen and Bobby's voice both coming to him almost simultaneously.

"Sam…where the hell are you two?" He demanded, obviously worried that he hadn't heard from either brother when they didn't show up when they had said they would.

"Hey Bobby. We didn't beat that storm, and we're sort of stuck in Wisconsin. Sorry for not calling sooner, but we have no signal in our room," he paused for a second before continuing, pondering just how to explain what was going on. "We're in a little motel in Menomonie, and something weird is going on," Sam finished as clicked away on his keyboard at the same time and listened to the momentary silence from the other end.

"Define 'weird' Sam. What, exactly, does that mean?" Bobby finally asked, knowing the Winchester definition of weird was not how most people thought weird should be.

"Well, it's Dean…" Sam went on, still not sure how to describe the situation yet.

"Now why am I not surprised?" Bobby snorted back.

"Bobby please…"

"Sorry Sam, go on," he apologized, and went quiet to let Sam explain.

"Well, he split his head open late last night, bad enough that I had to stitch it up, and he's been acting strange ever since. He's lethargic, he threw up, he's got a headache, and he gets dizzy, shit like that,"

"Sounds like he's got one whopper of a concussion Sam, that's all. Nothing a day or two of decent rest won't cure," the older man expressed what he thought should have been obvious, but judging by the sound of Sam's voice, it wasn't.

"Yeah, that's what I thought too, until a little while ago. We were going to walk over to this diner I'm sitting in right now, until something weird happened," Sam stopped for a second, leaving Bobby hanging.

"I'm still waiting for the weird part Sam," he barked, envisioning the young man lost in his own thoughts and trying to verbally smack him back into the real world with the sound of his voice.

"Well, he had some kind of attack. He just grabbed his stomach and hit the ground screaming. God Bobby, I've never heard anything as horrible as that in my entire life."

"Damn it Sam, is he ok?" He questioned, sounding a little panicked for a second before composing himself.

"I don't know. I dragged him back into the room, and he suddenly started coughing up blood. It was on the wall and on the floor, but then it just stopped. The next thing I knew, he crawled up onto the bed and it was over."

"He needs a doctor Sam, that's not normal," was all Bobby could to think to say. For that, he had no answer.

"There's more Bobby," Sam continued undaunted by the comment the older man had made. "When I looked at the wall, the blood was gone, vanished, like it was never there to begin with. Then something hit me that I almost forgot. Dean was bleeding all over the sink when I stitched his head up, but when I went back to the bathroom to clean it up, it was gone, like it had never been there either."

"Ok, that is weird. Where is your brother now?"

"Back at the room. He can barely stand up, so I ran over here myself to get some food and call you. We have no signal in there, and I can't get online either. Can you see if you can dig up anything on the 'Traveler's Oasis Motel'? We're stuck here until at least tomorrow, assuming the plows come to dig us out by then. I need to know if it's just Dean, or if there's something else going on here, because if it's just Dean, our next stop is the local ER."

"You got it Sam, I'll see what I can find out. Give me a couple hours to check things out. I'll call you when I've got something," he promised the youngest Winchester, not liking any of what he was hearing.

"You can try, but I'm not sure you'll get through. If I don't hear from in a few hours, I'll call you," Sam instructed back, pretty sure he wouldn't get the call if and when it came in if he was in that room at the time. "Bobby…thanks."

"Be careful Sam, and take care of that pig headed brother of yours," he said as he hung up, leaving Sam with a earful of dead air.

Finally able to concentrate on his search in front of him, he typed in as many keywords as he could find, coming up just about empty with each and every one. As much crap as there was on the internet, the 'Traveler's Oasis Motel' seemed to be non-existent in the realm of the world wide web. Broadening his horizons, he just simply asked for motel, Menomonie, and Wisconsin, and hit go. That request produced nearly nothing also, other than a brief article he clicked on about the sale of the 'Whispering Pines Inn' twenty years before, after it being for sale for nearly three years. Spying the ridiculously happy lady from the counter heading his way with a big, brown bag, he just slammed the lid shut and hoped Bobby would have better luck. Given enough time, he probably could have found something useful, but the longer he left Dean alone, the more nervous he seemed to get, and he had no explanation as to why.

"Here you go handsome, hope pecan pie is alright, it's all we got," she grinned as she handed him the bag. "I tossed in some vanilla ice cream too, on the house. That gonna be cash or charge?"

Sam silently stood and tucked his computer under his arm as he followed her to the counter to pay, and left with a simple thank-you as he stepped back out into the cold. The journey back across seemed to take twice as long as it had to the first time now that he was walking into the wind, it seemingly pushing him back with every step he tried to take forward. His body was nearly chilled to the bone now that his hair and pant legs were soaked from the initial trip, and it seemed to make him go even slower. That, and the sick feeling he somehow had in the pit of his stomach, almost like he was being watched. Something was very wrong, but as his face landed in a mound of snow when his feet came out from under him and he felt the stinging pain in the back of his head, he forgot what he was trying to figure out when his world went dark.

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Dean could hear his brother fumbling with the key just outside the door and he was pretty sure it was because he had his hands full, but he just didn't dare climb off the bed yet to help him. He'd only just gotten his head to clear now that it wasn't pulsating in his skull anymore, and he had no intentions of tempting fate by making any sudden, drastic moves. Yeah, he could hear Sam in his recently cleared head already, _'What the hell Dean, you send me out into the freezing cold for food, and you can't even open the damn door for me when I come back…' _but he'd live with it. He was free of the throbbing headache and the dizziness that went with it, and he wanted to keep it that way. Besides, by the time he'd decided he wasn't going to open the door for his brother, the key was in the lock and the knob was turning anyway.

Sam said nothing, just breezed by him without even a glance and slammed the door shut behind him before he dropped the brown bag on the table and started rummaging through it as Dean stared at him with his mouth agape and his eyebrows raised in sheer surprise. Sam was most definitely pissed, but about what, Dean didn't know.

"Something wrong Sam? Did you get a hold of Bobby?" He asked, rather tentatively when the tension radiating from his brother hit him in the face.

"No, I didn't bother to try," he coldly replied.

"Why?" Dean asked, the confusion obvious in his voice.

"Because I wanted to gut you like a fish before I did, so I'd at least have something interesting to talk to him about," Sam sneered as he turned to face Dean with those yellowish-red eyes he'd seen before in his dream, but this time, he wasn't so sure he was dreaming.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I am sooo sorry it took so long to get this update up and I want to thank Vanessa for finally getting me motivated to write it...even though I said it would be up...umm, like Sunday, I think. Anyway, I hope it was worth the long wait...and really sorry again!!

Chapter 5

Dean stared into those eyes with his mouth agape in total and complete shock as they stared menacingly right back, somewhat oblivious of the face that housed them, those yellow eyes he despised with every ounce of life he had in him. Those same yellow eyes that had taken his mother from him, taken his father from him, and would eventually come for his baby brother and take him too, leaving him all alone with nothing left to live for in this world. His father had stared at him through those eyes once as he nearly crushed the life right out of him and now Sam was doing the same, staring at him with nothing but murder in those evil, yellow eyes that he had to believe weren't his brother's. With his own eyes permanently fixed on his brother's new gaze, he held the look as he nonchalantly slipped his hands up and underneath his pillow without making any effort to sit up. He just casually slid his hands around searching for what should be there but for some reason wasn't.

"Looking for something, big brother?" Sam sneered mockingly at him as he pulled Dean's favorite knife from the brown paper sack he'd deposited on the table after coming back into the room and breezing past him without even acknowledging his existence. The brown paper sack that was supposed to be holding what would end up being not only their breakfast but probably their lunch and dinner as well, but apparently held quite a bit more. It was the knife that he usually had nestled snugly under his pillow while he slept with his hand grasped around the handle that afforded him his only protection and gave him a small sense of security that was no longer in its familiar, hidden spot but now in Sam's hands instead, and he had no idea how he'd even gotten hold of it without him knowing.

"I'm not your big brother, you evil son-of-a-bitch. My brother doesn't have the eyes of a mangy alley cat with a seriously lethal case of jaundice. I mean come on, you been hanging around with Pamela Anderson a little too much or what?" Dean retorted, never once making any effort to sit up as he tried looking as casual as possible even though his mind was filled with nothing but dread.

"Always the comedian, aren't you Dean? Always trying to laugh in the face of danger and all, never taking anything seriously. Well guess what, you better start taking this seriously because if you don't, it may just get you killed one day…like maybe today. This is as real as real gets and it can't simply be laughed away like you did when we were kids," Sam told him in the coldest, most hateful tone Dean had ever heard come from his brother's lips and he shuddered as he continued to listen to Sam's vile ranting. "Remember what dad said Dean? What he made you promise him? If you can't save me, you'll have to kill me. I think that's how it went, right? Well, looks like you failed miserably and dad's trust in you was sorely misplaced…as usual. You've been a pathetic letdown to him your entire life, haven't you? The big, bad Marine that couldn't even train his mindless soldier son to be anything more than a total screw up. God, he was an idiot, wasn't he?"

"Shut up. Don't talk about my dad. Don't you dare even breathe his name, you sick…" Dean seethed; his own voice thick with the anger that was welling inside him as he tried to figure out how Sam had known what John had asked of him before he died. Dean had kept that secret and never told him, but yet somehow he knew.

Sam cut him off and started babbling some more, not wanting to hear Dean's monotonous insults. "You mean our dad, don't you Dean? Are you really that blind to what's happening? Do you even know what you're supposed to be saving me from? I mean, how are you supposed to protect me from anything when you don't even know what it is I need protection against? For that matter, how are you supposed to protect me when you can't even protect yourself?"

"No, I don't mean our dad because you're not Sam. You're just some demon asshole that's decided to take a ride on the Winchester highway and in about two minutes I'm gonna send you on a one way trip right back to hell where you came from."

"Well, I hate to break the news to you Dean, but I am your brother and this is my future. Oh wait, the future is now! I've finally embraced that part of me that was always there, buried deep inside. Dad knew this was going to happen to me and I think he even knew there was no way of stopping it. It's probably why he checked out of the land of the living motel when he did and left you to do his dirty work. He knew he'd never be able to kill me, but he also knew you'd never break a promise to him, would you? A lot he knows, right? He didn't know shit because you and I both know you can't do it either, don't we? You can't take my life…hell, you both really are a couple of pussies when it comes to me, aren't you?" Sam taunted Dean as he paced the room, letting out an occasional chuckle for added effect, which worked like a charm as each giggle and smirk seemed to infuriate Dean even more.

"You sure do ask a lot of questions without waiting for any answers? If you were Sam, you'd already know them all anyway and wouldn't have to ask. But you're not Sam, just some piece of crap flushed from a toilet in god's throne room in heaven down to the sewers of hell that must have one hell of a clog for you to be backing up into the real world and leaving your filthy stink everywhere."

"Funny, considering you don't even believe in god. Don't believe me, then try to exorcise me. Let's see what happens, shall we?" Sam grinned from ear to ear as he pulled out John's journal from the bag he'd taken the knife from and threw it forcefully at Dean, the heavy book landing hard on his stomach and driving most of the air from his lungs as it hit his unprepared body. He grabbed the journal in both hands as he jerked himself up off the bed and onto his feet. Turning directly to the page the rites of exorcism had been scribbled on like Cliff's notes and without hesitating Dean started speaking as Sam just stood there staring at the ceiling and smiling as he rested his chin in his hand and tapped his cheek with his forefinger in lively amusement.

"Give it up Dean; you can't exorcise something that's been a part of me my whole life. Guess that means you'll just have to kill me, doesn't it?" He reminded him as he continued to leer and Dean just dropped the heavy book to the floor in defeat and stared back into those sickening yellow eyes.

He was totally speechless for the moment. He didn't move a muscle or flinch even an inch as he watched Sam take careful aim and launch his own knife in his direction. His aim had been dead on as it struck its intended target, not hitting him but burying the blade dead center of their father's seemingly useless journal that Dean had mindlessly released from his grasp, the knife impaling it to attach it harmlessly to the floor.

"Come on Dean, nothing funny to say now? You have a job to do, so I suggest you get on with it. It's the one and only chance you'll ever get to make Daddy proud of you as he burns in hell for all eternity for saving your sorry ass. Are you finally gonna give the old man something to smile about or do you just want to join him down there?"

Dean stared somberly at his brother, who was his entire reason for being, that now seemed to be truly lost to him and wondered what the hell could have happened in the short time since he'd walked out the door to do something as simple as get lunch because Dean couldn't seem to do it himself. Then, he looked down and stared at the knife and wondered if he could actually do it, do what his father had forced him to vow that he would now that it seemed he didn't have much choice. He honestly never thought this day would ever come, this day that he'd been fearing for months now. He thought he'd always be able to protect Sam from whatever evil wanted him so badly, but Sam was right, he had failed him and now he had to live up to the promise he had been forced to make. Problem was, now that the time had actually come he didn't think he could and Sam obviously knew it.

"Go on Dean, pick it up. Pick up the knife and save the world from me…save me from myself," Sam's voice came out in somewhat of a beg, as if the true Sam was fighting its way back out and for the briefest of moments Dean thought he had a chance at reaching him.

"I can't Sam, I can't hurt you, not like that," Dean barely breathed out, his voice so low and soft now it was barely audible as his thoughts spun around in his head like a freshly wound up top with no end to the string powering it. "You're my brother, I can't kill you."

"I knew you were full of shit Dean, you're such a coward!" Sam nearly screamed in his face as he advanced on him quickly, bringing them nearly nose to nose in a few angry steps.

Dean's eyes went hard and wide as his brother wrapped a hand that seemed twice its normal size firmly around his throat and picked him up off the floor and over his own head effortlessly. Slamming him hard against the wall and pinning him there with a strength he shouldn't possess, he stared into Dean's frantic face and laughed as his fingers tightened even harder around his neck, enjoying the dark blue shade Dean's lips were starting to turn.

"I'll bet you wish you had that knife now, don't you?" Sam mocked as he gazed into the blood red eyes fixed above him. The harder Sam held his grip as his older brother struggled for oxygen, the more capillaries in Dean's eyes started exploding and one by one the little vessels were turning the whites of his eyes a blood filled shade of red. Dean kicked and thrashed against his brother, but the more he fought, the less he connected with any of Sam's body parts until eventually his feet and fists found nothing but air between them, the air that was not filling his lungs anymore now that his airway had been cut off entirely. Sam was right in front of him, but for some reason, he couldn't seem to touch him.

Still kicking violently in his baby brother's powerful grasp, he tried tearing Sam's hands away from his throat in a desperate need to breathe but he couldn't wedge his fingers between his own neck and Sam's hand and only succeeded in digging his nails not only into Sam's flesh but his own as well, leaving bloody smears and streaks on both as he fought to live. He was losing and losing quickly.

"It's a shame I have to get rid of you, I've always wanted a dog…you would have done quite nicely. You always were the obedient one that obeyed your master, weren't you?" Sam continued to taunt as the fight started going out of him, and Dean knew it was all but over, even though he continued scratching and clawing with what little strength he had left as his eyes closed for what he thought would be the last time, the final image they would ever see were the horrid, yellow eyes of his beloved brother choking the life out of him, the last thing his ears would ever hear was the sound of Sam screaming his name.

"DEAN!!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam opened his eyes, only to find his face buried in the cold, wet snow as an overly excited voice shouted into his ringing ears. "Holy shit man, that wind just took that speed limit sign right off its post and it hit you smack in the back of the head as it flew by! Are you alright?" Brian hollered as he tried helping Sam to his feet.

"I think so," he groggily replied as he grabbed the back of his abused skull and rubbed, grateful it came away clean when he brought it to his face to check for damage and forced himself up on his feet rather unsteadily. Brian held his arm at the elbow for the longest time until he was sure the ridiculously tall man wasn't going to take another header back into the snow pack on the icy ground, finally letting go when Sam gently pulled it away himself.

The motel clerk took the liberty of scooping up Sam's laptop that had mercifully fallen undamaged in the freshly fallen, untouched powder as Sam retrieved the brown paper sack he'd been carrying and noticed the contents were still warm inside. _'Couldn't have been out that long if the food's still hot.' _He thought, grateful again that no real damage had been done, other than the bruises to his ego.

"Dude, I thought for sure that thing was gonna take your head off when it came flying at you. Good thing I was watching or you'd be toast. You probably would have ended up being there all day," he praised himself; quite obviously thinking he'd saved Sam from certain death. Sam, on the other hand, didn't care what the stupid kid thought, he just wanted to get out of the driving wind that was making his eyes water and back to his room, suck down a couple of Tylenol for the headache he could feel was coming after his losing battle with the road sign, and maybe take a nice, long nap until morning.

Dean didn't know it, but Sam had never really gone back to sleep this morning after his brother had nearly scared the life out of him when he'd suddenly decided to stop breathing for no apparent reason during his restless sleep. He had laid in his own bed for hours listening to Dean take in one breath after another as he tossed and turned repeatedly, Sam counting each inhalation until he finally lost track sometime after eight a.m. and decided to just get up and shower instead of trying to force something he knew just wasn't going to happen.

His shower had been quick and he'd been dressed and out of the bathroom in less than ten minutes, fearful that Dean would somehow find a way to die in his sleep if he wasn't there to stop him. He'd booted up the laptop and attempted to get online, which definitely wasn't happening when he realized he had no signal of any kind in the room, the television included and he opted to just play solitaire until his eyes started closing and his head drifted down to the table as he dozed off now that Dean was finally breathing steadily and his erratic movements in his bed had stilled.

The sound of his computer buzzing at him when his head rolled onto the spacebar had pulled him from his all too short nap, waking him sometime around one in the afternoon. He tried one more time to call Bobby and get online to no avail, and just sat there staring at the screen while he waited for his brother to wake up, afraid to leave him alone in the room for more than a minute at a time when he was asleep.

"Hey, you sure you're ok? You kinda zoned out there for a second," Brian again shouted into Sam's ear and it took all the self control he had not to lay him out with a fist to the face. Sam's mood had grown foul in the last few minutes as the pain in his head started to intensify and he knew he better just get back to their room before he did hurt someone, namely Brian.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Can I have my computer? It's freezing and I want to get back to my brother," he informed Brian as nicely as he possibly could and didn't wait for the kid to extend the laptop to him before he practically tore it from his hands.

Brian didn't know the man from Adam, but he knew when to avoid someone and he shot Sam a quick look before making an even quicker escape. "No problem. If you need anything, just call the office," he told him as he started walking away.

'_I would if the damn phone in the room worked,' _he thought but didn't say. "Sure. Thanks for your help," is what actually came out, this time in a forced, calmer tone.

Brian waved his acknowledgement and kept walking as Sam started his own trot back to the room he and Dean shared, his pace quick and steady. It didn't take nearly as long to get back once Sam's body warmed up as he started moving and he was at the door in practically no time, sliding the key into the lock and turning the knob quickly with one hand as he held the bag and the computer in the other, not wanting Dean to make any hasty moves to try opening the door for him and quite possibly landing on his face in the carpet…or worse.

He immediately noticed the room was dark as the door slowly creaked open and he tried to remember if he'd turned off the light when he left, but it really didn't matter. It was the intermittent banging sounds he heard that struck him the second he stepped inside the room and he nearly froze in his tracks when he realized what they were. Using what light was coming in through the open door, Sam dropped the laptop and bag onto the floor and flipped the switch that would turn on the table lamps. The entire room rapidly changed from night to day and Sam instantly saw exactly what it was he thought he had heard.

Dean was rolling around on the floor between the two beds, wildly thrashing and clutching at his own throat, seemingly engaged in a fierce battle against suffocation, a battle that Sam could see he was clearly losing the closer he got to him. His eyelids were pinched shut tight as the eyes themselves frantically rolled from side to side under the lids and his lips were a deathly shade of blue. The more Sam watched him, the more it became obvious that somehow Dean was choking in his sleep. Grabbing both of his brother's bloodied hands and wrenching them away from his own throat, he pulled Dean somewhat upright and started frenziedly screaming his name, praying the sound of his voice would somehow bring him back to much needed consciousness.

"DEAN!!" He screamed at his brother over and over, each shout of his name only making him buck and jerk even more, like he was trying to get away from him but he just couldn't. No matter how hard he tried, Sam could not get him to calm down or stop flailing and he did the only thing he could think to do.

Drawing his hand back up over his brother's face, he swung hard and connected his right palm with Dean's left cheek, the resounding 'crack' that echoed through the room instantly forcing the tightly shut eyes open wide and Sam nearly fell back in shock at the sight of them. The normally clear white of his brother's eyes were streaked with red and Sam couldn't control the gasp that escaped his lips at that and the wild, nearly feral stare that Dean returned. Sam also notice that even though his brother's eyes were open wide, he still hadn't taken a breath yet. Grabbing his brother around his head and cupping his face in his hands, he stared directly into his eyes and started shouting at him again, this time not just his name but orders instead.

"BREATHE…GOD DAMN IT DEAN BREATHE!"

Dean saw the tears welling in the now familiar eyes that were fixed on him in with a look of sheer terror as the voice coming from behind them desperately begged him to take in air. They were no longer the evil, yellow ones that filled his soul with fear, hate and loathing but the soft bluish green ones of his not so little baby brother that were consumed by their own kind of fear as they fought back the salty flow that was threatening to come from them. Forcing his mouth open, he sucked in the biggest lungful of air his chest would hold, the action instigating a fit of uncontrollable coughing that quickly subsided as he rolled onto his side and took in deep, heavy breaths instead as Sam rubbed his back in an effort to calm not only Dean but himself as well.

Sam waited for what he thought was hours but was really only minutes before he decided to speak and in all honesty he really had no idea where to begin. No sooner had he opened his mouth to ask the usual _'Are you alright?' _question that he knew would start yet another health and well-being argument, Dean covered both his ears with his hands and started shaking as he mumbled something Sam had a hard time making out, but when he finally did he knew there was something very wrong with his brother.

"Make it stop Sam…please, make it stop," he begged in a whisper and the next thing Sam knew, he was asleep.

End Notes: I really am sorry for slacking on this one but now that my taxes (and everyone elses in the house) are done I can finally focus on what's important!!


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Notes: Well, it's not exactly what I wanted but since I've read it three times and can't come up with anything better, I guess it will have to do. _

Chapter 6

"Make it stop Sam…please, make it stop," Dean had begged his brother before he tried to let his mind go blank now that the ever present throbbing in his skull had made it's triumphant return since he'd opened his eyes and he wanted nothing more than to just make the agony go away. The pain was merciless, but it wasn't the only agonizing thing taxing his brain at the moment. The constant wail of the baby he heard crying somewhere in the distance normally wouldn't bother him, but right now it was worse than a banshee's shriek breaking out in the still of the night. He'd covered his ears in the hopes of drowning it out when it had started but when he'd started shaking, the pain in his head became too intense and he just forced himself to fall still, hoping it would eventually ride itself out.

The memory of his brother glaring at him murderously with those horrific yellow eyes only moments before had been quickly replaced with the vision of Sam staring at him like a deer caught in a semi's headlights with a look of absolute terror and Dean quickly realized that everything up until he felt the sharp stinging across his cheek had been nothing but a terrible nightmare, a nightmare that felt all too real now that his throat was burning as he tried to breathe and the skin on his neck seemed to be on fire. He could feel Sam's comforting hand rubbing against his back and made a mental note to address that issue later, but for now he would just lay there and let it calm him. He somehow needed the reassurance that Sam was there and that Sam was really was Sam, which his brother's comforting contact seemed to be giving him. He tried passing out now that his nerves had somewhat relaxed, tried really hard and almost did, but somehow he knew Sam just wasn't going to let him stay unconscious for long and he prepared himself for the barrage of questions that were inevitably going to come.

"Make what stop Dean?" Sam finally asked now that he'd pulled himself out of his state of nearly total, complete shock as he gave his brother a hard shake in an effort to wake him. He'd almost entirely forgotten about his own headache as he stared at Dean sucking in a heavy lungful of air every few seconds while he continued to try to sleep on the floor. He breathed a small sigh of relief when Dean's lips returned to a normal shade of pink but cringed somewhat when he lifted an eyelid and saw the blank red glare coming from behind them. "Come on Dean, wake up and talk to me."

"That baby crying, can't you hear it? Make it stop Sammy, it's hurting my head," Dean moaned in pain, not really hearing all of Sam's response. Somehow the howling wail abruptly stopped tearing its way through his head once Sam started talking to him and with that small measure of relief, Dean was able to start thinking a little clearer, even through the painful throb that was still there.

"Dean, there's no baby…" Sam had tried telling him until Dean cut him off after he'd stopped listening.

"Sam…help…" he started to say and Sam suddenly started to panic again when he'd heard the words.

"What is it Dean? Can you still breathe ok?" He asked in a frantic voice and Dean had to force his eyes open to look at him. He was stunned by the look he got back and couldn't figure out what could possibly be so wrong that Sam looked so terrified.

"Help me up," he finished what he had attempted to get out before his brother cut his words off with his overabundance of concern and made a giant effort to sit up as he did but gave up on that bad idea entirely when he realized his head was too heavy for his neck to pick up off the floor. Bringing his hands up to reach for the back of his head, Sam grabbed them both and just forced them back down again, which irritated Dean somewhat at the motion. There was something wrong with his neck and he wanted to know what. "You gonna help me off the floor Sam or what?"

"Just stay there for a minute while I find the first aid kit. I think I left it in the bathroom," Sam instructed as he quickly got up off the floor in search of their medical supplies and now Dean was really starting to become confused.

"What so you need it for?" He called out as he heard Sam first rummaging through the room, then heard the bathroom sink turn on and off before speedily returning to his side, but he'd just about answered his own question when he'd lifted his arm again to rub his head and saw the red streaks on his fingers and the blood caked under his own nails. "Uh…Sam?"

"Let me clean you up first, then we'll get you back onto the bed, ok?" Sam tried to calm the agitation he could see was starting to come from Dean.

"Clean me up? Clean me up from what? What the hell happened? Whose blood is this?"

"It's your blood and I don't know what happened Dean. I came back in here to find you rolling around on the floor clawing at your throat and not breathing again. I was kinda hoping you could tell me what happened while I was gone," Sam addressed his question and it was painfully apparent he wasn't going to get an answer as to what had gone down from Dean because the look on Dean's face told him he either wasn't sure or he knew and just wasn't going to tell him.

"I don't know Sam. I must have fallen asleep after you walked out the door. The next thing I remember is you coming back and…" Dean couldn't tell his brother what had happened, he couldn't tell him he'd had a vision of sorts of his brother turning into the thing they despised the most and trying to kill him and he knew he had to divert the conversation away from where it was going, which he easily did when he remembered what exactly it was that had pulled him from the nightmare in the first place. "Sam, you bitch slapped me, didn't you? You freakin' bitch slapped me."

"Yeah, I guess I did," Sam couldn't suppress the slight chuckle that came out when he heard Dean's mortified tone as he asked the question and chuckled again when he saw Dean's eyes go wide and his face turn bright red when he answered him. "Sorry to say, it looks like it's going to leave a mark too. It was that or let you suffocate. Didn't really have much of an option there."

"Yeah, but cracking me across the face like a hormonal woman? Damn Sam, talk about adding insult to injury," he mumbled as he reached for his throat again but Sam blocked this attempt just as he had the first one.

"Leave it alone Dean. You're bleeding and I need to clean you up, then we are going to talk about this," he told his brother as he grabbed Dean by the chin and forced his head back gently to expose the bloody scratches he'd inflicted on himself.

Wiping each oozing abrasion clean with the towel he'd soaked in the bathroom sink as he grabbed the first aid kit, Sam was more and more shocked at what he was seeing. The gouges Dean had made in his own flesh weren't deep, but there were too many of them to count and each one of them seeped at their own pace but as Sam cleaned them one by one he could clearly see there was more than just scratches across his brother's marred flesh. What Sam was looking at were definitely angry, dark bruises in the shape of fingers, fingers that had somehow been attached to an invisible hand wrapped tightly around Dean's throat that had somehow been choking the life out of him as he slept.

"Umm, Dean…"

"Yeah…" he muttered now that the intense throbbing in his head had finally started winning out and he was doing his best to drift off to sleep, that and the fact that he really didn't want to talk to Sam unless he could be thinking clearly when he did it, which there was no way he would be able to do right now with his head feeling the way it did.

"I think you better try really hard to remember what happened, because I think we may have a bigger problem than you realize," Sam had stated, continuing to examine his brother's neck for any additional damage.

"Huh? Whaddaya talkin' 'bout…" Dean slurred now that he had nearly fallen totally back into the land of sleep, which is exactly where he wanted to be right now.

"Who was choking you Dean? These marks on your throat could only have been caused by someone's hands. Dean…wake up damn it. What the hell is going on here?"

"Later Sam…talk later…too tired now…" he whispered as he drifted off to sleep and Sam just let him, knowing he wouldn't get any intelligent answers from him in the condition he was in anyway. Answers he fully expected his brother to start offering up once he showed him the overwhelming evidence against his proclaimed lack of knowledge. The evidence was all there, the bruising on his neck, the hemorrhaging in his eyes, and worst of all, the claw marks on his throat. Something had tried choking Dean to death while he slept and damn it if his brother wasn't going to tell him who or what it had been.

Once he'd finally gotten the last few deep scratches to stop their bloody flow, Sam covered the worst few with some gauze and tape before tossing the entire kit to the side and tried his damnedest to pick Dean up off the floor to get him back onto the bed without waking him, which he failed at doing the second he tried sliding an arm underneath Dean's back. He stirred slightly and mumbled something and Sam tried to at least get him to at least help.

"Come on Dean, get up off the floor and back onto the bed. You're gonna be in a world of hurt later if you sleep down here all day," he said as he struggled to at least sit Dean up in the hopes of waking him long enough for him to hopefully crawl back onto of the bed as opposed to laying on the floor next to it.

"Jus gimme a pillow and leave me 'ere Sammy, it's ok," he whined now, wanting no part of the conscious world at this particular time.

"No, you need to get off the floor," Sam insisted as he jerked him up a little more forcefully this time.

"You're not gonna leave me alone, are you?"

"Not until you're off the damn floor," Sam told him and smirked when he saw Dean try to plant the soles of his feet on the floor to stand. With a firm hold on both of Dean's hands, Sam stood first then dragged his brother up with him just enough to sit him on the edge of the bed. He lowered him down slowly before picking up his feet from the floor and sliding them over until Dean was in a nearly vertical position, then covered him with the comforter he'd pulled from his own bed now that Dean was laying on top of his own.

"Happy?" Dean questioningly whispered to Sam as he gradually drifted back into that sleep he'd been so rudely torn away from and Sam thought he'd give the burning question on his mind one more shot.

"Not yet. I'll be happy when you tell me what was choking you Dean," Sam nearly begged and much to his surprise, Dean obliged.

"You did Sam, in my dream. It was you," was the last thing Dean said before he actually started snoring lightly and Sam knew there was definitely something unnaturally wrong going on.

With his own head starting it's own pained throb, Sam wanted nothing more than to join his brother in a deep state of slumber. Sitting on the bed right next to Dean, he rested his head on a pillow and closed his eyes, not wanting to stray too far from his brother's side should something else decide to try choking the life out of him again. He desperately needed Bobby to find something and he needed him to find it quick before whatever it was that was trying to bring his brother to the other side finally makes a successful attempt.

He didn't know how long he'd been sleeping, but by the time he'd heard the pounding on the door it was completely dark outside. Glancing quickly at Dean, who's tossing and turning had gone completely unnoticed by Sam as he slept but had somehow turned him from his back to his stomach in his sleep and leaving his arm draped over Sam's head, he slid out from underneath the heavy limb and stumbled towards the door. Grabbing the knob and jerking it open just enough to stick his head outside, he was surprised to see the smiling face of Brian in front of him.

"I've got a message for you from some guy named Bobby," Brian grinned as he delivered the news, and then waited for some kind of response from the obviously still half asleep man. He just continued when all he got was an annoyed blank stare in return. "He wants you to call him right away, said it's really important."

Something in the second half of what Brian had said finally seemed to pull Sam from his stupor and all he could think to do was throw the door open wide and step outside as he tried pushing past Brian who was blocking nearly the entire doorway. He turned to face the younger man once he'd breezed past and had him trapped between himself and the room before he looked him sharply in the eye and barked a command that made the kid actually jump. "Stay right there and watch my brother. Do not take your eyes off him and you scream if he even flinches, you got me?"

Brian's scowl was either from irritation, curiosity, or fear, but all he did was shake his head as Sam turned and walked a few steps out into the parking lot while pulling his phone from his pocket. He realized the winds had died down to nearly none now and was grateful for it when he noticed he didn't have a coat on but couldn't go back inside and talk on his phone at the same time. Pressing the speed dial button for Bobby, he paced the lot impatiently until the gruff voice answered surprisingly on only the second ring.

"Sam, I think I found something, but before I tell you what I think is going on you gotta please tell me you ain't staying in room number 8," Bobby hurriedly said and in all honesty Sam didn't really know what the number of their room was.

"Hold on a sec Bobby," he told the seasoned hunter, then called out to Brian from his spot some twenty feet away in the parking lot. "Hey Brian, what room number are we in?"

"Number eight. You're in room number eight."

Turning his mouth back to the phone and letting out an ominous sigh, Sam just confirmed what he could tell Bobby didn't want to hear. "Well, guess what Bobby, it must be our lucky day because we just happen to be staying in room number eight."

"Somehow I knew you were gonna tell me that Sam," he sighed himself and Sam really didn't like the way it sounded over the phone. "Whatever you do Sam, don't…"

"Uh hey, Sam…I think you better come here. There's something's wrong with your brother," Brian's voice overlapped Bobby's and as Sam sprinted back inside, his call to the only man that had any answers was lost and he never heard the most important part of what Bobby was trying to tell him.

"…take Dean from that room," hung in the air, going totally unheard as Sam burst past Brian and directly inside. His stomach dropped when he saw Dean's face and he couldn't help the panicked tone he nearly screamed at Brian with.

"Have the roads been plowed yet?" Sam asked, clearly desperate to hear a positive answer for a change.

"Yeah, about an hour ago, why?" Brian answered in his own panicked tone as he watched Sam scramble around the room like a madman.

"Where's the nearest hospital, I need to get my brother there now."

_End Notes: One good thing, at least someone knows what the heck is going on, even if he can't tell anyone that needs to know._

_Well, I hope this was ok, I just can't seem to think too straight today._


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Bobby was pretty sure he'd heard someone hollering at Sam that something was wrong with his brother before he'd been totally cut off, the dead air coming from the other end of the line enough to make his skin crawl as the unfamiliar voice echoed in his head. He quickly redialed Sam's number and was not the least bit surprised that in went immediately into voicemail without ringing once. Attempting the call again, he received the same results and simply gave up on just calling. He could call from his truck a hundred times over as he made his way northeast because if his suspicions were correct, Dean didn't have a whole lot of time left and going on what he'd just heard, he didn't think the man would be of much help to him or Sam either. He could only pray Sam had heard all of what he had said before the call had been lost, because if he hadn't, it may be all over by the time he got there.

Initially, Sam's call had sent a wave or relief through him. Dean had called late the night before in another one of his rather pissy moods he always seemed to be in as of late to tell him that they weren't driving another mile through the snowy 'shit' they had found themselves in and were stopping for the night. He'd also told Bobby that they would head out first thing in the morning to meet up with him, which usually meant the crack of dawn by Winchester chronology. The town of Menomie, Wisconsin was only a three hour drive from Mason City, Iowa; probably only two for Dean; so when the boys hadn't shown up by noon, he had started to worry. He had called Dean over and over for the next two hours when he still hadn't heard from either one of them by one that afternoon but was met by nothing but voicemail each and every time. By the time he'd heard from Sam, it was nearly four and he was half out of his mind. The sound of Sam's voice had been a welcomed sound, until he heard the tone that accompanied it.

He remained calm and collected as Sam spoke but knew the second he heard the word 'weird' come from the younger brother that something was very wrong. Nothing much was 'weird' to a Winchester by now. He let the young man tell the entire story from start to finish and willingly volunteered his assistance before hanging up to make a few calls and preparing to head out, knowing full well he'd need to be in Menomie eventually.

Bobby Singer was no slave to technology which meant he usually gathered most of his information from dusty old books, parchments and scrolls, or simply at the good old library. After calling a few friends to check on a few things for him, he headed to the nearest public reading room to see what he could dig up on the establishment the Winchesters currently resided in. He'd been there for hours when the kindly librarian had tapped him on the shoulder to let him know it was closing time and he just sighed when he realized he still didn't really have any answers. Lots of suspicions, but no real answers yet.

What he'd found out about the 'Traveler's Oasis Motel' was nothing compared to what he had found out about the 'Whispering Pines Inn' and he was pretty confident he had discovered the source of all the boys problems, problems that all originated in room 8. Room 8 had been a plethora of unusual activity for years prior to the sale of the business to a young local couple that knew the history of the place but just didn't seem to care. They had agreed to never rent out room 8 to anyone and Bobby was having a hard time figuring out why the hell Sam and Dean were in that exact room right now.

He'd finally gotten the call he'd been waiting for some time after midnight and had been desperately trying to get in contact with Sam ever since, pretty sure he now knew exactly what was going on behind that evil containing door. Nearing two a.m. and hearing no word from Sam yet, he just decided to call the damn motel itself. He had no idea what name the boys were registered under, but he figured it wouldn't be very hard to describe he brothers. Hell, the car alone would do that trick. Ringing up the motel office and speaking to a very aloof sounding young man, he'd left his message for Sam, hoping that by telling the jackass on the other end it was urgent would get it delivered sooner rather than later.

He'd gotten Sam's call nearly an hour after leaving his message and by that time he was so anxious he didn't even look at the caller ID or ask who was on the other end when he answered, he just assumed it was Sam and started talking. With his worst fears confirmed as Sam answered his question, he'd started telling the younger brother the most important piece of all the information he had gathered, but it seemed he wouldn't get to finish it. As he replayed the call over and over in his head, he climbed into his fully loaded truck, turned the key to bring the engine to life and took off into the dark, praying that after all the young men that had died in that room, Dean wouldn't be added to the bottom of the list.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam had not heard a word Bobby had said since he'd been thrust into sheer panic mode once his attention had been ripped away from the phone after that dreaded phrase had come so casually from Brian's mouth. He'd been pacing the parking lot in the frigid, pre-dawn air, trying to get some answers from the man on the other end of the line that would help him make heads or tails out of what was happening to his brother at the moment, but now that would just have to wait. Crisis management came first. Racing back into the room the second he had heard the annoying motel clerk say 'there's something wrong with your brother' had pretty much cleared his mind of everything Bobby had tried to relay, or had tried to start to relay before Sam cut him off; his concern for Dean and whatever was happening to him right now the only thing there was room for in his sleep deprived, beleaguered head. He knew that Bobby could obviously help him make some sense out of what was going on, but at this particular moment, he had bigger problems than trying to sort out the actual details as only god knew what was going on back inside that god forsaken room. That god forsaken room he knew he had to get his brother out of, and fast.

Sam hadn't witnessed what had prompted the outburst, but Brian had been watching in morbid, curious wonder as Dean's body started shivering and as he rolled over to face him, he couldn't help but notice the tiny trail of blood oozing from his mouth and down his all too pale chin as he shuddered slightly on the bed. Dean had slowly curled into a ball as he clutched his head in his hands and started softly moaning something that sounded like words but he just couldn't hear after turning to face the direction Sam had been in only moments before. Seeing that the man on the bed clearly needed some kind of help but having no intentions of going any further into the room to assist the man that was in obvious distress, he just called out to Sam instead. Brian just stood there in the doorway and continued to gawk as Sam shoved hard past him back inside and after taking one good look at Dean's deathly white pallor, he started racing around the room looking for only god knew what, then barked at him when he'd finally given up on his search for whatever it was he just couldn't seem to find.

"Where's the nearest hospital? I need to get my brother there now," he asked the dumbfounded kid standing in the doorway staring at the all too interesting scene before him like it was some kind of live horror show, the sharp tone of voice Sam projected with a panicked force finally bringing him out of his mesmerized state and snapping him into some attention.

"Dude, that was just a quickie dig out before the real plows come. The roads aren't really that drivable yet unless you've got a snowmobile. The winds just finally died down about ten minutes ago and this shit has been blowing everywhere like it's fresh snow for the last forty minutes before that. Hell, it's probably like the roads haven't even been plowed yet at all by now with the way this crap's been whipping around," Brian rambled from the doorway as Sam frantically tried wrapping Dean in the relatively clean comforter that was still draped neatly over the mattress underneath his trembling body now that the cover he had pulled off his own bed that he had laid over his sleeping brother earlier was resting in a pile on the floor and quite obviously stained with blood. Sam hadn't actually seen where the large droplets had come from, but the red coating on Dean's blue-tinged lips gave him a pretty good indication.

Sam had lost all patience with the idiotic attendant standing uselessly in the doorway taking up the precious air that, judging by the color of his lips, Dean so obviously needed desperately but wasn't getting enough of somehow and it took all the restraint he had in him to not grab one of the guns from his brother's duffel bag and just shoot him on the spot to put him out of his own misery. It took all his restraint and the hushed voice finally wafting from his brother's mouth to keep him from resorting to murder so he could just think straight for a minute.

"Sam…" It was nothing more than a whisper, but it was something he hadn't expected on hearing and right now Sam would gladly take it. At this point, Sam would take whatever he could get from Dean, except what he actually got. "Calm down Sammy…"

It wasn't the usual 'I'm fine' he was expecting that he got, but somehow it made him just as edgy when he heard it stated so nonchalantly, as if nothing innately insane was going on in the room at the very moment. "Calm down? You want me to calm down? Your lips look like you've been sucking on a bloody smurf and you want me to calm down. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm just tired, really tired…and my head hurts." Dean told his brother rather calmly himself as his eyes started to finally flutter open, not finding any reason whatsoever to panic.

"Yeah, I gathered that by the way you were squeezing it like it was ready to explode," Sam huffed back, trying hard to not sound so crazed now that Dean could actually see his face as he spoke, at least for his brother's sake he tried to sound sane. Dean quite obviously had no idea what was happening to him and that only seemed to scare Sam more.

"That was because that damn baby was crying again Sam, couldn't you hear it?"

"Dean, there was no baby crying…Jesus Christ, are you hallucinating?"

"I know what I heard Sam, I heard that friggin' kid wailing like someone was killing it," Dean informed his little brother matter-of-factly with a slight hint of irritation in his voice. The longer he held the conversation, the more alert and aware he seemed to become and for the moment Sam started to breathe a little easier, until he noticed his brother's lips still hadn't returned to their normally pink color from the blue hue they had taken on or the fact that his face still held no color at all. There was also the matter of the blood streak running from the corner of his mouth to his chin before turning down in the direction of his neck and out of sight. Taking all that into account, it didn't matter to Sam how coherent his brother seemed to be right now. Coherent or not, something was still seriously wrong.

"That's it Dean…we're going to the ER, shit roads or not."

"You heard surfer dude over there Sammy, the roads aren't drivable right now," Dean added to his growing list of intelligent thoughts as his eyes went wide from his brother's statement, but Sam didn't really care what his brother had to say now. The vague recollection of Bobby begging Sam to tell him that they weren't in the exact room they were currently in only prompted his need to get his brother out of here even more.

"Hey Brian," Sam called, knowing his curiosity couldn't keep him away. "How far is the nearest hospital?"

"About seven miles." He answered and as if he could read Sam's mind, proceeded to tell him exactly where it was. He wanted nothing more than both these men to be gone and he was beginning to regret he had even given them a room in the first place, either room. If his parents found out what was going on, they would probably kill him. "That's Rt. 29 right there where the diner is. Take that west until it turns into Stout Road. Hospital's on the left, you can't miss it."

"Can you walk to the car Dean, or do I need to carry you?" Sam asked with one brow cocked, the other one still frowning.

"I'm not going anywhere Sam," Dean insisted as he started to almost pout, but the look Sam had had in his eyes told a whole different story. He knew that determined look on Sam's face and in all honesty he didn't have the energy to fight him, especially when he knew he couldn't win.

"It's a simple question…walk or be carried? It's up to you."

"Gee Sammy, since you put it that way, I guess I'll walk, thanks." The angered look on his face was unmistakable but it was the only protest Dean could muster even though he knew the pathetic attempt would get him out of nothing. "Oh…and when we get there and they find out there's nothing wrong with me that a few painkillers and some sleeping pills won't fix, you're dead meat, little brother."

"Yeah, well at least you won't be dead meat too," Sam frowned as he searched the room for the keys to the Impala, frowning even deeper when he finally found them hiding innocently underneath Dean's jacket as if they didn't want them to be found at all.

Sliding on his own coat and stuffing the car keys into his pocket, Sam extended a hand to his ailing sibling to not only help him up off the bed without falling flat onto his face but to also tell him it was time to go, whether he liked it or not. The already deep frown Sam had perpetually plastered across his forehead for the last twenty four hours seemed to furrow all the way to China when he felt how cold and clammy Dean's hand was as he took it into his own. If it hadn't been for the trembling he felt in the limb as he held onto it, Sam would have sworn that by the color and feel of Dean's skin he was staring at a corpse.

With a monumental effort of his own and a lot of help from Sam, Dean found the strength to at least pick his head up off the pillow it rested heavily on, bring his back up off the bed and sit upright as casually as he possibly could, his motion giving off no hint of anything amiss other than the heavy sigh that filled the silence that had fallen in the room. Making no additional effort to rise any higher off the bed, Dean just sat there staring at his sock-clad feet for a moment before looking up into Sam's unwavering stare and stating the obvious. "Uh Sam…shoes?"

"You don't need them where we're going and the car's not far," Sam told his brother and it was painfully apparent to the younger Winchester that the older was just stalling. Noticing that Brian, who was still there standing in the doorway and staring, hadn't moved a muscle, Sam pulled the Impala's keys from his pocket and launched them hard in his direction. "Brian, make yourself useful and open the car doors for me, would you?"

Brian's reflexes weren't as quick as Sam's were but Sam's aim was extremely accurate and as the keys hit him hard in the chest and bounced off, Brian's fumbling hands caught them before they could hit the floor. He only nodded as he bolted from the room to do as Sam had asked. He'd do anything at this point to get them out of here faster, even though he was thoroughly enjoying the show they were putting on.

"Dean, there's something hinky going on in this room and the sooner we get out of it, the better," Sam whispered, only loud enough for Dean to hear now that Brian was most likely gone.

"Then why the hell do we need to go to the sick house? I'm sure we could hang out somewhere else besides there, like maybe a strip club. I saw one on the way here, we can…" Dean mumbled back.

"Because there's something wrong with you too," he flatly stated as he cut him off, trying to leave no room for argument, but then again, he was talking to Dean.

"Yeah, but if it's the room, then we just leave and everything's fine, right?"

"Yeah, well, better to be safe than sorry," Sam finally told him as he tightened his grip on Dean's hand, then grabbed him around the elbow with the other in an attempt to force him to stand. "Besides, we still need to come back and fix this problem after they check you out. Whatever's going on here needs to be stopped."

"Do you even know what's going on here Sam?"

"No, but I think Bobby does. He tried telling before…anyway, the sooner we get in the car, the sooner I can call him and find out. Now, are you going to get up on your own, or do I need to carry you? I'm not waiting all day."

Sam's tone was final and the firm grip he held on his hand and elbow as he now forcefully pulled him up off the bed made Dean just accept the inevitable and ride up to a standing position next to his brother. The movement had been slow and careful, but even as slow as it was; it somehow had been too quick for his body to adjust and Dean's vision instantly started swirling around him. Sam felt his brother's legs start to shake as he reached for a steadying shoulder to brace himself against and as he felt Dean start to sway, Sam released his grip on Dean's elbow and grabbed him around the waist to hold him up instead.

"Wanna dance," Dean smirked after a few very nervous moments after finally regaining his composure.

"Not with you. Looks like I'm carrying you after all," Sam shot back, clearly not amused.

"Like hell you are," Dean defiantly stated as he opened his eyes, grateful that everything around him was finally standing still now.

Sam released his grip around Dean's waist and grabbed the key to the room off the nightstand as Dean released his grip on Sam's shoulder but continued holding onto his hand as he placed one foot very slowly and cautiously in front of the other. Walking in the direction of the door that had been standing open for far too long, Dean couldn't help but shiver now that the room had become bone-chillingly cold. Step by step they advanced until they'd made it nearly to the door and Sam breathed a sigh of victory when he saw Brian standing guard at the car, it's sleek black now totally cleared of the snow piled atop it and both doors open wide.

"I'm cold Sam," Dean blurted out as his body started trembling even harder now that he had passed through the door and into the cold, early morning air outside.

"I know, but the car's right there and I promise I'll crank the heat," Sam tried telling him even though it was becoming more and more apparent that each step they made that took them closer to the car and farther from the door was getting harder and harder for Dean to take.

The first step out through the door had blasted Dean's frame with an almost unbearable cold that spread through every part of his body. His grip on Sam's hand tightened just a little when it struck him, but he took another step in the direction of his welcoming baby sitting there in the pure white before him.

The second step he took caused a heavy sheen of sweat to break out on his brow first, then his hands, until he felt it break out against the back of his neck which only seemed to chill his already frigid body even more when the cold air breezed by. He tried ignoring that sensation and took another short step towards the only place he really considered home, but this time he just stopped dead and stared out into the dark now that the all too familiar flutter he had felt the first time he tried making a break for the car returned.

Deciding to press his luck a little, either out of stupidity or sheer defiance, he took two larger, quicker steps ahead until he was midway between the car in front of him and the door behind him. By the time he put his foot down after the second step, he knew he couldn't go any further. That queasy fluttering had turned into something akin to flesh-tearing cramps that radiated throughout his entire abdominal area accompanied by the low buzz that was echoing through his head that seemed to get louder and louder with each passing second. Even with Dean's sweat soaked hand still clutched firmly in his own, Sam could do nothing to stop the drop he made to his knees as his legs went limp underneath him and he crashed hard to the ground below.

"Shit," Sam screamed, feeling the impending fall but being able to do nothing about it and just watched as his brother curled back up into that ball he'd found himself in the last time he came outside, but blessedly without the agonizing screams. "Dean, what's wrong?"

"Back inside Sam…go back inside…" Dean tried spitting out through pained breaths as Sam reached for him with both hands to lift him up off the cold, hard ground before realizing he had something clutched in his own hand that was stopping him from grabbing onto his brother.

"Hold this while I pick you up," Sam ordered Dean, even though he was pretty sure his brother had stopped listening to anything he had to say and shoved the room key hard into the palm of Dean's free hand before closing his fingers tightly around it.

Dean felt the cold, sharp little object resting in his hand and when he heard his brother's frantic voice telling him to hold onto it, he squeezed it even tighter in his fist. Gradually, the infernal buzzing tearing its way through his brain started to quiet as the gut-wrenching cramps began to subside enough for him to scramble up somewhat and get his feet back under himself. With a few kicks, he was able to shove his body backwards and through the door in an odd sort of butt-crawl with barely any help from Sam at all, stopping only when his back was resting against the bed inside. Totally drained from the entire ordeal, Dean could do nothing more than rest his head against the soft mattress behind him and close his eyes and for some reason, the hospital didn't sound like such a bad place anymore.


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Notes: Thanks for all your patience. I'm trying really hard to get these updates up a little faster!! Hope this one meets with everyone's approval._

Chapter 8

If he had been 'just tired' before Sam tried dragging him from the comfort of the soft bed he had been perfectly content on never leaving, he was outright exhausted now. The near-horrific pain that had doubled him over and left him nearly breathless when it struck him like a lightning bolt out of the clear blue had eased considerably once he had crawled his way back into the room, leaving him with just an uncomfortable burning sensation throughout his entire midsection. His head still throbbed in unison with the rapid pounding of his heart in his chest, but that had been going on long before he had made the effort to leave so he really thought nothing of it. What was starting to weigh heavily on his mind was the fact that he had been sitting on the floor motionless for the last few minutes and still couldn't seem to catch his breath. What also bothered him to no end was that if he knew he wasn't breathing normally yet, Sam knew it too. He could feel the shift in the air around him as he sensed Sam kneel down right next to him, just biding his time as he patiently waited to say something, which he finally did after what felt like an eternity.

"Dean…"

"Not now Sam, just give me a minute," he cut his brother's audibly anxious words off with his open hand and a few words of his own, not really sure he could answer Sam's 'I need to know how you are' questioning that he was positive was about to be asked with the obligatory 'I'm fine'.

"You've already had about five Dean. How many more do you think you're gonna need to even out your breathing because I gotta tell you, I'm about ready to just call 911. Last time I checked, ambulances still ran in the snow and you are in major need of some medical attention," Sam tried calmly expressing his concern as he fixed his hard stare on Dean's chalky white face, the only color in it, or rather on it, coming from the blood stains that ran from his still all-too-blue lips and down his chin that he obviously had had no idea he'd spat out when his back slammed against the bed after the hastily aborted trip to the car. His brother still hadn't opened his eyes to look at him yet either as he continued taking in quick, rapid breaths, the pace that he drew them in at not slowing down in the least with the continuing passage of time.

"No ambulance Sam…just help me back onto the bed," Dean tried mumbling out but made no effort to move in the bed's direction, his eyes still shut tight with an arm clutched over his stomach and clearly half asleep again.

'Why the hell not?" Sam asked; his irritation painfully apparent in his voice as he started realizing full well that the situation was approaching way beyond bad.

"Because the room…it won't let me leave…" he slurred, barely able to stay awake anymore. "Call Bobby…just call Bobby."

"What do you mean 'the room won't let you leave'?" Sam asked in a rather confused tone.

"You saw it yourself Sammy, swung twice, missed twice. Don't want to find out what happens when I get strike three," he told Sam as his body started slowly slumping to the side now that he was nearly out cold.

"Dude, what is wrong with him?" Brian ignorantly asked from the doorway and Sam hadn't even noticed he was there until he actually spoke. The kid may be annoying, but right now Sam was somewhat grateful he was as nosy as he was.

"Brian, do you know if any of the other guests staying in any of the other rooms is a doctor?" He questioned, knowing the intrusively inquisitive young man probably knew everything about each and every one of the guests in the motel.

"I think the lady in two might be one, why?" Brian responded in a tentatively questioning tone.

"Go wake her up and bring her here…now!" Sam barked when he heard his positive response.

"Seriously? Dude, it's like…3 am, I can't just go knocking on doors asking…"

"Seriously…dude, my brother is in serious need of some serious medical attention right now and if I can't get him to a hospital, I guess she's the next best thing. You can either stay here in this room with Dean while I go get her or you can haul your own ass over there and bring her here yourself. Either way she's getting an early wakeup call because I'm seriously not in the mood to have my brother die on me today," Sam rambled, seriously out of patience.

"Ok…ok, I'll go get her, but if she isn't a doctor, you're gonna be doing some serious apologizing for me pounding on her door at this hour," Brian remarked as he reached for the door to close it as he left. He would much rather face the wrath of a potentially angry, middle aged woman pulled from a blissful sleep in the wee hours of the morning then set one foot inside that room. His parents had never told him why he was never to go inside, but he was starting to get a pretty good idea now.

Sam was surprised the idiot had even had the notion to close the door behind him when he left, let alone actually close it but he was grateful again nonetheless. The room was bordering on freezing now that the entryway had been standing open wide for so long and he hoped it was the reason for the relentless shivering that seemed to have overtaken his brother's unconscious form on the floor and not something else. Laying a heavy hand across Dean's forehead, he should have been relieved to feel it was cool to the touch instead of burning up like he half expected it to be, but somehow the cold clamminess only seemed to make him worry more. It was an almost unnatural cold and it made Sam shiver somewhat as he pulled his hand away.

"Dean, wake up man. You gotta get up off the floor," Sam shook his brother as he spoke. He wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of having to pick Dean up off the floor by himself. "Dean…"

"Sam…why do I taste blood in my mouth?" The question took him by surprise when it came from nowhere and Sam was equally surprised to find that Dean was even awake to ask it.

"Because you have blood in your mouth," Sam stated simply, not even feeling the need to sugar coat anything at this point. Dean needed to know that, contrary to his own personal opinion, something was very wrong with him.

"Oh…ok, good reason," Dean retorted without the slightest modicum of concern at his brother's answer. "Why do I have blood in my mouth?"

"I don't know Dean, that's what we need to figure out." It was the only thing he could think to say, because frankly, he had no answers to anything yet. "Do you think you can get up off the floor and into the bed?"

"What's the point? I always seem to end up down here anyway. May as well just leave me here and save me the trip," Dean groaned his answer since he barely had enough energy to speak, let alone move himself anywhere at the moment. He couldn't remember a time when he was this exhausted for no good reason and just wanted to sleep right where he sat. Now, if he could only make Sam understand that.

Sam was in no mood to argue with his nearly incoherent brother and decided he would just go in for the kill now when he realized Dean had no intentions of moving a foot, or even an inch, in the direction of the bed. "Dean…will you just get off the floor for me please? It will make me feel a whole lot better if I know you're at least comfortable. Will you just do that for me…please? I can't stand seeing you sitting there sprawled out on the cold floor shivering like that."

Even with his eyes still tightly closed, Dean could see the puppy-dog eyed stare his little brother was shooting in his direction and there was nothing he could do to dodge the visual barrage being hurled at him from the deeply concerned face that was mere inches from his own. As hard as he tried to ignore it, he just couldn't do it as he felt Sam's warm breath fall evenly against his cheek and all Dean could think was that his pit-bull little brother was ready to launch a mother-hen-like attack any second. Forcing his eyes open to return the determined stare and expelling a heavy sigh, Dean drew in what little strength he could from Sam's dogged gaze and somehow forced himself up enough to rest his butt on the soft comfort of the mattress above him. His movement had been surprisingly fast and Sam could see the unsteady teetering Dean's upper body started to make at the sudden action. He pulled himself up off the floor twice as fast as Dean had and was perched on the bed next to him to steady his shaky body with a firm hand before Dean could spill himself back on the floor, which it seemed he'd rather be on anyway.

His breathing has slowed just a little since first retuning to the confines of the room, but it still came out in quick, rapid breaths; especially now since he had spent energy he really didn't have to spend just to get off the floor at his little brother's behest. The thick coating of coppery-tasting fluid lingering in his mouth was starting to nauseate him as he sat there waiting for the room to stop spinning, which only seemed to intensify the uncomfortable burn throughout his entire abdominal area and he knew that if there had been anything in his stomach at the moment, it would be making its way onto the floor very shortly.

"Sam…" he tried breathing out without letting on that he was on the verge of what would probably be some relatively uncomfortable dry heaves but pretty much gave himself away when he unconsciously grasped Sam's steadying arm in his trembling hand and gave it a distressed squeeze as he slowly dropped his head between his knees and tried unsuccessfully to breathe in deeply.

"Dean, what is it? Talk to me," Sam nearly begged when felt his brother's fingers dig into his skin as his breathing rate started to increase again. Dean was obviously unaware how hard he was clutching Sam's arm in his hand and it sent up warning flags instantly in Sam's head.

"Get me some water…please," Dean nearly begged right back as he released his iron grip on Sam's now nearly numb limb.

Sam cut the short distance to the bathroom quickly, unwrapped the second of the plastic motel-issue cups on the bathroom sink and filled it with cold water to the brim and was back at his brother's side before he could find a way to fall on his face onto the floor. Forcing Dean's head up, he gently but firmly thrust the cold cup into the shuddering hand that hung limply at his side as he brought it up to his face. Dean took a slow mouthful of the nearly icy fluid inside and Sam quickly sensed his brother had no intentions of swallowing what he had just drank in as the water just swished and sloshed from cheek to cheek. Grabbing the wastebasket next to the bed, he brought it up to his brother's weary face to let him spit the water out and was rather alarmed at how darkly discolored it was. Sam desperately wanted to know where that blood was coming from and hoped he would get some sort of answers when he heard the knock on the door.

Brian didn't wait for any sort of response as he opened the door and stuck just his head inside, anxious to deliver his message and be gone again. He'd had enough excitement for one night and just wanted to go back to his maiming and killing in Halo 3 with his online death posse. He regretted answering that phone call from the gruff sounding man that had been looking for them when it came in and decided he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. "You're in luck. Lady says she's a jino-colonojist, or something like that, but hey, she's better than nothing, right?"

"Sam…" Dean couldn't help but growl as Sam somehow seemed to chuckle at Brian's announcement. Both men knew exactly what he meant to say.

"She said she'll be over in a couple minutes. Good enough? Can I go now?"

"Please do," Sam nearly barked, but then thought better. "Make yourself easy to find if we need you, ok?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll be in the office. Remember, just call," Brian reminded him as he pulled the door shut behind him once again and it didn't go unnoticed by Sam that no matter what happened, the kid refused to set one foot inside.

"You can't be serious," Dean said first, his irritation at what he had just heard being the only thing keeping him sitting upright.

"She's a doctor Dean, and you need one," Sam argued, trying to keep a straight face. Just Dean's luck that the only available medical help would be someone that he shared a similar interest with, only with different purposes in mind.

"She's a 'female' doctor Sam and the last time I checked I didn't have…you know…one of those," Dean stated in an obviously mortified tone, even more obviously unable to say the word that refused to leave his lips.

"Have one of what?" Sam couldn't help but ask and finding it rather difficult to hide the smirk that wanted to spread out wide across his face. This was the most animated he had seen his brother in days and it made him feel just a little bit better, if only for the moment.

"You know…a vag…a vag…oh forget it!" He blurted out as he just dropped his upper body down onto the bed, not even caring what position it left him in as he just stared at the ceiling looking like he wanted to cry. "She's an 'innie' doctor Sammy, not an 'outie'."

Sam hid his amusement well as he stood and grabbed Dean's legs from the floor to bring them up onto the bed. Dean gave no resistance, or assistance either, as Sam tried correcting his position and after a lot of effort and little to no help, he finally got Dean straight in the bed, undressed to boxers and a t-shirt, and snugly under the blankets. Dean felt a pang of guilt at how much effort Sam had exerted to right him, but truth be told, he hadn't helped Sam not because he didn't want to but because he just couldn't. He had no steam left in his engine.

The hesitant knock had come nearly fifteen minutes after Brian's startling revelation and Dean had long since fallen into a light sleep, or so Sam thought. His eyes opened halfway at the rapping on the door and the look Dean gave his brother produced a wide grin across his otherwise worried face. "She's just a doctor Dean, don't be such a pussy," he laughed as he made for the door, ignoring the pair of birds angrily flying above Dean's heavy head.

Turning his face deadly serious, Sam threw the door open wide and stared at the short, stocky, mid-forties woman with a brown leather bag thrown over her shoulder and for the briefest of moments, he didn't know what to say. She had never laid eyes on either brother before, but each shimmering orb nestled in her head held what Sam could only determine was concern and he couldn't help but wonder what Brian had told her. Sam had to mentally pinch himself to get his mouth moving, his voice sounding odd even to his own ears as it came out.

"Um…hi," was all he could seem to say and at nearly four o'clock in the morning, it just wasn't enough for the woman standing on the other side of the door.

"Young man, it's a little nippy out here. Are you going to let me in, or should I go back to my nice, warm bed in my nice, warm room?" She looked into Sam's face and could see the fear in it.

"Sorry…it's been a little stressful in here. Please, come in," he tried to warmly smile as he opened the door wide for her to step inside. "I'm really sorry to have bothered you but my brother's really sick and it doesn't look like we can get out of here anytime soon."

It didn't take her long to see why her presence was so desperately required in the room as her eyes fell on the elder Winchester laying relatively motionless in the bed with one arm thrown over his eyes and the other laying limply at his side, the occasional shudder his only movement as he seemingly tried to sleep. His entire body seemed to be abnormally pale while his lips still seemed to be holding onto that ghastly blue hue they had recently acquired and with a keen eye she could see the remnants of dried blood still adorning the ridge of his lower lip. She dropped her bag at the foot of the bed and made her introductions, knowing full well that the tall, young man standing before her was barely holding his wits together.

"It's ok, I'm glad I can help. My name is Dr. Alice Archer, but since you're not technically a patient, you can call me Alice," she smiled softly at the younger Winchester as she held out a greeting hand to shake Sam's before gently plopping her adequate frame down on the bed next to Dean and started digging through her bag. "So, tell me Sam; what seems to be wrong with your brother?"

"I wish I knew. He seemed fine yesterday, or the day before…god, I don't even know what day it is today," he tried to explain, exhaustion starting to settle into his own brain now. He watched her slide Dean's limp arm into a blood pressure cuff and start pumping away as she listened to the sounds coming through the stethoscope now resting in her ears. He couldn't help but match her frown as the air hissed out when she was through and he could feel his stomach start to clench and churn.

"That's ok Sam. I'll ask, you just answer, ok?" She suggested and her frown only seemed to get deeper when she counted the throbbing beats of Dean's heart in her head as she held his cold wrist in her hand. "How long has he been this lethargic?"

"Since technically yesterday when he split his head open. It wasn't this bad at first but now he can barely keep his eyes open for more than ten minutes at a time."

She shook her head in acknowledgement before asking a few questions in a row, pretty sure what Sam's answers would be. "Does he get dizzy when he stands, has he had any trouble breathing or has he complained of stomach pain?"

"Yes, yes, and yes." Sam answered each one quickly in succession.

"How long has he been spitting up blood?" She questioned and that one surprised Sam.

"The first time was yesterday, then again twice today," he answered again and for some strange reason, her questions were starting to scare him.

"When was the last time he ate?"

Sam shrugged slightly at the posing of that question as his eyes drifted to the brown bag still sitting untouched on the little table across the room. He honestly couldn't remember the last time either one of them had eaten and he told her just that. Shaking her head again, she tugged the blanket down that Dean had pulled up to his chin and was shocked to see the angry, red welts covering nearly every inch of his neck. She shot Sam a quizzical look but said nothing as she lifted his t-shirt up to expose his entire upper body. The cold air brushing over him made him shudder and the subtle moan that escaped his lips told them both that Dean wasn't totally sleeping.

"Dean, can you answer a question for me, please?" She quietly asked and Dean just shook his head in response. Softly laying her warm hands across his cool stomach just below his rib cage, she pushed and pressed as gently as possible until she felt the distinct lump just under his left set ribs. "Does that hurt when I press on it?"

"Umm…yes…no…maybe a little," he mumbled and she really didn't need to ask anymore. Pulling his shirt back down and the blanket back up, she stood and crossed the small space of the room to stand face to face with Sam, who was starting to look rather panicked as he anxiously waited for her to tell him what was wrong.

"Sam, has your brother ever had a bleeding ulcer?"

"No, why?" He answered with a clear scowl.

"Well, just going on what I can see and feel I would have to say that Dean's acutely anemic and without further tests my only assumption can be he's bleeding from somewhere inside and he's probably bleeding fast. Unless he's had a traumatic injury besides that one to his head in the last couple of days, it's my best guess. His pulse is racing, his blood pressure is low enough to be bordering on dangerous, his breathing is entirely too rapid and his spleen is slightly enlarged. I think his lips are blue because he isn't getting enough oxygen throughout his body and the spitting up blood is a huge concern. As soon as these roads are clear I would strongly suggest you get him to the hospital, but in the meantime, you really need to get him to eat something and let him rest."

Sam listened to every word she said carefully and by the time she was done, he needed to sit down before he fell down. The room, the blood, the room soaking up Dean's blood; it all had to be connected somehow and he desperately needed to speak to Bobby. He needed to know what Bobby knew and he needed to know it now. Taking in an overly deep breath, Sam stood and grabbed his jacket before making his way towards the door, phone already in hand. "Please…can you stay with him while I make a phone call?"

"Yeah, sure," she responded and watched as Sam walked out the door and closed it behind him.

He quickly pressed the speed dial number for Bobby's phone and nearly jumped at the panicked screech that echoed through the receiver. "Sam? What the hell's going on there and where the hell is your brother?"

"He's still alive, for now anyway. Please tell me you've got something because this whole situation is totally screwed," Sam pleaded, needing someone sane that would understand to talk to at the moment.

"Sam, listen carefully. Whatever you do, do not take Dean out of that room," he started and Sam knew that Dean had already figured that one out on his own, and figured it out the hard way.

"Yeah, we got that one covered."

"Ok, you tell me what's wrong first," Bobby instructed. He was already nearly positive in his suspicions, but he wanted Sam to confirm them first before he went any further.

"I tried to take Dean to the ER, but when we tried to leave he just doubled over in pain again and we ended right back in the room. Doesn't matter anyway, the roads are shit and we probably wouldn't have even made it into town. I thought that if we just got out of the room though…"

"Sam, is Dean in that room alone?" He asked the younger brother, somewhat panicked.

"No. There was a doctor staying in one of the other rooms that came to check him out. She's in there with him now, why?"

"What did she say?"

"She thinks he's got a bleeding ulcer or something because he's 'acutely anemic'. I think that's what she said, anyway. Jesus Christ Bobby, Dean's never had an ulcer and he's not bleeding from anywhere I can see except for what he keeps spitting up. Where the hell could he be bleeding from that could cause that?"

"It's the room Sam. I'll tell you all about it when I get there but for now, whatever you do, don't leave him alone and you don't fall asleep. One of you has to be awake at all times; doesn't matter which one but from the sounds of it, it ain't gonna be Dean. I'll be there in about two hours if the roads stay clean. Just sit tight and stay alert."

"Bobby, what the hell are we dealing with here?" He asked, clearly frustrated and scared.

"Call it what you will, langsuir; civatateo; churel. It pretty much translates to a blood-sucking ghost. I think she's trapped in that room with the two of you and has somehow taken too much of a liking to that brother of yours."

"Well, I guess that explains a lot, doesn't it?" Sam huffed, grateful someone knew what the hell was going on.

"Boy, that don't explain the half of it." Bobby replied, then hit the gas a little harder.

_End Notes: Sorry about the whole gynecologist thing, just couldn't help myself with that one. Sometimes I wonder where my mind is. So, what do you think so far?_

_Oh yeah, almost forgot...ball's in your court now Vanessa!_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Bobby, at least tell me something positive please. I can't go back in there with nothing," Sam nearly begged, not wanting to go back into the room without at least one good thing to say to his ailing brother, his ailing brother that was apparently the victim of some blood-sucking evil spirit..

"As long as you don't leave him alone, he'll be ok Sam. It can't feed on him if you're there watching him so don't take your eyes off him for a second and I'll be there as fast as I can," he reminded the younger brother again.

"Ok…Bobby, just hurry please," he continued his beg, which really sounded more like a whine.

"I'm going as fast as I can Sam,' Bobby tried to tell him calmly but failing miserably.

"I know. Be careful, ok?" Sam asked, wanting him there soon, but in one piece too.

"Sam, I don't think I can do both at the same time. I either gotta hurry up or be careful. You just get back inside that room and watch your brother and let me worry about gettin' there in one piece," he sharply stated and Sam heard his thought echo through the phone before the audible click came over the line indicating the call was over.

Sam shoved his phone back into his pocket when he heard Bobby disconnect the call from the other end and paced back and forth a few times as he ran one of his hands through his tangled mop of hair before slowly making his way back into the room. He smiled meekly at the doctor that had been kind enough to drag herself out into the cold, windy night at such a god-awful hour and was actually grateful for her presence. Or was it technically morning, he just wasn't even sure anymore. She hadn't really done anything more than quell the fears he had had that Dean was most definitely going to drop dead any second, but in his book her reassurances had been crucial to him because, according to Bobby, he needed his head on straight now that they knew there was something more going on here than meets the eye and constant worrying about whether or not Dean was going to die at the drop of a hat had defeated that purpose entirely. All he needed to do now was make his brother eat something and then try engaging him in some stunning conversation for the next two hours to entertain himself until Bobby got there, which proved to be no easy task as Dean had seemingly passed out again as Dr. Alice sat next to him, looking him over one more time.

There was a definite, deep-seated frown hidden behind that forced smile she flashed back in Sam's direction as she pulled the blanket and comforter up to Dean's chin, then picked the discarded comforter up off the floor to cover him with as he shivered periodically, even though the room was finally nice and comfortably warm now. Sam nearly shouted at her to drop that additional cover she had grabbed to drape over Dean's chilled body when he remembered why he had tossed it aside in the first place, but he bit his tongue as she spread it out over him and tucked it under his chin with the others. Sam wasn't the least bit surprised it had not one red stain on it, not anywhere. She gathered her things and carefully put them all back into her bag before standing and crossing the short distance to where Sam stood at the door, looking him sympathetically in the eyes as she spoke.

"He really should be in a hospital Sam, but you know that, don't you? This is just a symptom of some underlying condition that really needs to be treated, and sooner rather than later. As soon as the roads are clear, please either take him into town or call for an ambulance, ok?" Her concern was very evident in her voice as she spoke calmly and quietly as if she didn't want Dean to hear her.

"I know and I will. Thank you so much for your help," Sam expressed his gratitude with a thin smile and a handshake as she motioned towards the door.

"Take these," she told him as she handed him a decent sized white bottle of what was quite obviously pills of some kind as she drew in close to him and whispered. "Give him one of these every six hours or so unless you get out of here sooner."

"What are they?" Sam whispered back, wondering why they were whispering at all.

"They're only vitamins, but they have a higher dose of iron in them. They aren't a cure by any means, but they should help." she answered, still in a hushed tone and Sam thought he knew why. "Try and have him eat first though or they may not sit very well in his stomach."

"Are these what I think they are," he questioned with a slight smirk on his face.

"Yeah, prenatal vitamins, but if they help, who cares. I was on my way to see my sister with them before getting snowed in here but right now I think you need them more than she does. She'll at least be pregnant for another six months," she murmured. Somehow she had the distinct feeling that if Dean knew what they were, he would never let them touch his lips. "I'm going to go back to my room, but I insist you call me if you need anything or if something happens before you can get him out of here, ok?"

Sam huffed at that comment before responding. "I'll probably just have to scream out the door, the phone in here doesn't work."

"Well, then you just scream away Sam. I mean it, ok?" She grasped the door handle and leaned in the direction of leaving before pausing for just a moment, something obviously still on her mind. She finally voiced the question she really wanted to hear a good answer to since eyeing the marks when she had first seen them but hadn't had a chance to ask. "I'm sorry Sam, but I have to know. Where did the scratches on his neck come from? Some of them are pretty bad."

"He was choking in his sleep and started clawing at his neck. I couldn't stop him before he did that to himself," Sam answered without any hesitation as he looked her square in the eyes and answered as honestly as he could. She could tell he was telling the truth by his tone and body language and could also tell he didn't want to discuss it anymore. She had clearly seen the bruises under the gouges but decided to ask no more on the subject.

"Remember, call if you need me," she reiterated as she turned the handle on the door to leave.

"I will…and thank you again. I don't think I can thank you enough."

"You're very welcome," she smiled what appeared to be a unforced, genuine smile this time before opening the door and passing through it to leave. "Good night Sam."

"Good morning, you mean," he replied as he shut the door behind him, not bothering to lock it. With everyone and their mother parading in and out of the room, he figured there was no point.

Sam had two choices at the moment and really didn't like the idea of either one. He could either let Dean continue to sleep and just wait in silence for Bobby to get there and hope there was an easy solution to this current problem, '_Yeah, right. Like that's gonna happen'_. …or he could follow the doctor's orders and wake his brother, force him to eat that cheeseburger that he never ate earlier along with the pie and one of the 'vitamins' Dr. Alice had left behind. Leaning heavily towards option number two, he plopped himself down on the bed next to Dean and started gently poking him. Lucky for Sam, Dean hadn't really been asleep.

"So, what's the prognosis McSteamy? Or are you McDreamy? No, I got it, you're Bambi…or do you prefer Fetus?" Dean chuckled to himself as he spoke, his words coming out semi-slurred but amusing to himself nonetheless.

"It scares me that you even know all that Dean," Sam just shook his head and sighed before answering the actual question. "She thinks you'll live… for now. She thinks you may be anemic and gave me some vitamins for you to take until we can get the hell out of here and to the H-O-S-P-I-T-A-L." Sam emphasized the word strongly before finishing his thought, feeling somewhat guiltily justified. _'Yeah, because I love being right about Dean needing to be in a hospital'. _"You gotta sit up and eat first though."

"You wanna be cleaning up puke all morning?" Dean asked, doubting anything would sit well in his stomach right now judging by the way it felt.

"She said you have to eat something Dean."

"No, she said I needed to rest, Sammy. How am I supposed to rest if I'm either throwing up or dry heaving all morning? That doesn't sound very real restful to me."

"So, you were listening to her," Sam smiled slightly when he asked it. Of course Dean had been listening.

"Only to the parts I wanted to hear," he reluctantly admitted.

"Dean, you need to sit up and eat this burger. If you're good, I'll even let you have the pie."

"Don't I have enough problems without you trying to give me food poisoning? How long's that burger been sitting over there in that bag growing bacteria?" Dean remarked, his voice a definite whine now.

"Dean, with that you put in your stomach on a regular basis, I'm pretty sure a twelve hour old burger isn't going to stand a chance against you. Come on, you need to eat something. You may even feel better if you do," he tried telling his brother. "If you'd really been listening, you'd know that."

"Damn it Sam, why do you gotta ride my ass like a hemorrhoid?"

"Because someone has to take care of since you sure as hell don't take care of yourself."

"Whatever. Give me the freakin' burger. If eatin' it will shut you up for five minutes, then I'll eat mine and yours."

Dean struggled to pull himself into a sitting position and Sam could see he still had a bad chill in his bones, especially when he tried squeezing the blankets tighter around him. Before Sam made any attempt at forcing a half day old burger down his brother's throat, he got up and dug through his duffel sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed and handed Dean a thick, heavy, fleece hoodie for him to slip on over his upper body, which he did gratefully, the soft material warming his slightly.

"Thanks Sammy," Dean mumbled his appreciation, bracing himself for what Sam was going to force him to do next.

Handing him the cold slab of meat resting between two grease soaked pieces of bun, Dean couldn't help but scrunch his nose up at what would normally be a little piece of heaven for him, had it been fresh.

"Dean, please," he nearly begged with that damn sad twinkle in his eyes again, and this time Dean could actually see the long, needy look spread across Sam's face rather haggard face.

"Dude, it's cold. Can't you at least warm it up first?"

"With what, a cigarette lighter? Or maybe I should go get one of the flare guns from the trunk,' Sam nearly barked, his patience starting to wear thin. For a tough, macho hunter, Dean sure was a baby when he was under the weather, if that's what you wanted to call it. "There's no microwave in here Dean, and I'm not going to the office. Sorry, but cold it has to be."

"You really are gonna be cleaning up puke later," Dean warned as he practically ripped the burger from his brother's hands and started shoved a big chunk of it into his mouth, his irritation, the heavy taste of cold grease and onions and the fact that he bit off more than he could chew making him start to gag.

"Slow down Dean. Are you trying to make yourself sick just make me feel bad?" Sam accused as he darted into the bathroom for a cold cup of water for his brother to help down what he was eating. Dean forced his throat to relax and just finished what was already in his mouth before shooting Sam an apologetic, totally defeated look. Yep, Sam had won, but then again, he knew he would.

"So, Dr. Ruth says I'm anemic. What does Bobby say?" Dean asked between much smaller bites as he sat watching Sam devour his own cold burger, which disappeared after about five decent sized mouthfuls. "I'm sure his professional opinion differs from hers in more ways than one."

"Bobby's on his way Dean. He said he'd explain everything when he gets here," Sam avoided the topic, not wanting to tell Dean anything yet since he really didn't know exactly what was going on himself.

"You're lying Sam, or you're not telling the entire truth which is pretty much the same thing. I may be sick, but I'm not blind. What did he tell you?"

"Where's dad's journal?" Sam ignored the question as the light bulb in his brain lit up bright and he could see his brother visibly start to get frustrated, but at this particular moment, he didn't care.

"It's in my bag…where it always is. Are you gonna tell me what the man said or do I need to beat it out of you?"

"I'd like to see you try. You can barely hold the rest of that burger up to your face," Sam challenged as he started digging through his brother's stuff in search of their father's supernatural bible of sorts.

Pulling the battered book from the bag and sitting himself back down next to Dean, who was shooting his brother the most annoyed look he could muster considering how shitty he felt and picking at what was left of the sandwich still held unwanted in his hand, Sam started slowly scanning and turning pages one by one, hoping he could find something even remotely close to what Bobby had mentioned before hanging up with him. Page after page he found nothing until he had made it almost to the end of the book, one word catching his eye and garnering all his attention. Dean had long since given up asking what Sam was looking for as he finally stuffed the last piece of the worst thing he had probably ever eaten in his entire life into his mouth and washed it down with most of the water left in the cup Sam had given him that he now had tucked between his legs along with the pill that waited patiently on his thigh, figuring once Sam finally had something to say, he would say it.

"I think I found something," Sam nearly shrieked, jolting Dean from the light doze he had drifted off into as he waited for his brother to share his infinite wisdom with him.

"Do tell," he mumbled, forcing himself to listen to whatever it was Sam way trying to say.

"Bobby said langsuir. I knew I saw that in dad's journal once but never really paid much attention to it. Listen to this. _'Langsuir…blood-sucking ghost of a woman that died during childbirth. Most legends are false; she is more of a woman in white than a demon. Domestication is bullshit. Simple salt and burn, that's it.' _The rest of the page is missing," Sam scratched his head as he looked at his brother who had suddenly gone wide eyed, listening intently to every word Sam said.

"What the hell do you mean the rest of the page is missing? You mean to tell me that I've got some blood-sucking wanna be mother chowing down on me and the rest of the page is missing? And what the hell does he mean 'domestication'. Do we want the friggin' thing as a pet?" Dean jerked himself upright and snatched the book away from his startled brother's hands and was nearly hyperventilating by the time he rambled out everything he was thinking with plenty more behind it still trying to get out.

"Calm down Dean, We don't know that for sure. Bobby said a few other things too and these notes are way too vague to draw any conclusion so just relax until he gets here and tells us exactly what he meant." Sam insisted as he forced his brother's overly excited body back down onto the bed with hardly any effort, the rapid breathing he'd suddenly started barely slowing down.

"Easy for you to say. She's not bleeding you dry, is she?" He snapped, trying to force himself to calm down as Sam had no nicely requested. "What else did Bobby say?"

"Not much, except that you'd be ok as long as I didn't leave you alone. If I'm here watching you it won't come after you. That's all he said."

"Oh Sammy, my hero," Dean tipped his head to the side, bowed it, and looked up into Sam's eyes that were fixed on his own as he batted his long eyelashes at him with his hands clasped over his chest like a saved damsel in distress.

"You must be feeling better," Sam ignored the ridiculous display and changed the subject to something more interesting, or maybe just different. It didn't matter, as long as it was changed.

"Yeah, I guess I do," Dean agreed. He was still exhausted from head to toe, but the burning in the pit of his stomach had all but disappeared and his head no longer throbbed relentlessly which meant he could probably actually get some restful sleep instead of the nightmare riddled world filled with pain and agony he usually found himself in every time he seemed to close his eyes.

Resting his head back down on his mound of pillows, he slowed his breathing back to at least the rapid breaths he'd been taking for the last few hours, his body unable to slow the respiration back to its normal pace just yet. He hated that every time he laid his head down he was ready to fall asleep within minutes. Wanting to fight the dark cloud of sleep that had decided to hover over him again but having almost no energy to, he just gave in and figured that with Bobby on his way this would be over soon and everything would be back to normal. That was his thought as least as he started drifting into what he expected to be a peaceful sleep now that Sam knew he had to take up guard duty for a change.

"Hey Dean, you want the pie?"

"Maybe later…too tired Sammy." his words trailed off and by the time the word Sammy came out, it sounded more like it did when Dean was fresh from the bar after a bottle of Jack and a waitress or two, minus the stench of stale beer and cigarettes.

Watching his brother sleep for a few minutes, he noticed right away that he rarely shivered; even though he hadn't pulled the covers up to his chin and cocooned himself in them. He also saw the slight change in color of his lips. They were still a light shade of blue, but they did seem to have a little pink here and there. At least to Sam they did. Taking their father's journal from Dean's now lax hands, he carefully stowed it back in Dean's duffel, making sure it was securely in the pocket he always hid it in. Sitting down on the bed next to his now deeply sleeping brother, Sam tried turning the TV on but each and every station seemed to be broadcasting the same thing. Snow, nothing but snow and after running through the channels twice, Sam just powered the damn thing off with the remote and tossed the useless piece of equipment onto the floor. They had killed a little over an hour and Sam was happy to have less than an hour to go. Leaning his head back against the headboard, he let his mind concentrate on Dean's breathing, still too hard and fast but strong and steady. The sound practically hypnotized him and before Sam could even stop it; his eyes were closed before he even knew they were drifting shut.

The rumble of an overly loud engine roaring up outside registered vaguely in Sam's mind as his eyes half opened, but the rapping on the door jerked them wide and for a second, he couldn't believe what he was seeing, or partially seeing. All he caught was a thick bunch of long, dark hair cascading down a white dressed back race off into the darkness of the bathroom and before Sam even knew what he was doing, he was on his feet in hot pursuit. Sticking his head through the door without any concern for his own safety, he flipped on the light and scanned the tiny area, but found nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The pounding on the door got harder and louder, the near beating of it down followed by the gruff sound of Bobby screaming "God damn it Sam, open this door before I kick it in," finally forced Sam to call out to him from the other side.

"It's open," he nearly screamed as he raced back to Dean's side and scanned him from head to toe. He'd rolled over onto his side sometime after both men had fallen asleep, but from what Sam could see, he looked untouched, except for the fact that he had suddenly started clutching his head again as he groaned in what Sam knew was most definitely pain.

"Dean, what is it?" Sam asked his brother in a hushed voice as Bobby came through the door, his tone not nearly as soothing as Sam's had been.

"Sam, what the hell is going on in here? I've been pounding on that door for nearly five minutes now. What gives?"

"STOP YELLING," Dean nearly screamed himself as a lone tear ran down his face, the pain in head nearly unbearable now as he tried not to gag from the coppery taste in his mouth again.

"Talk to me Dean, what is it?" Sam whispered again and waited for him to answer.

"It's the baby Sam, the damn baby…" he moaned, rolling from his side to his back, then back onto his side again, occasionally kicking his feet.

"What the hell is he talking about Sam?" Bobby asked, totally confused and slightly concerned at what he had just walked in on.

"You first Bobby. You tell me what the hell is going on and what the hell is doing this to Dean."


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Notes: I sure hope this doesn't confuse anyone. I know it's a little vague in places but the rest of the story just has to wait until someone that knows the truth can can tell it properly. Ok, anyway...hope it's ok. Thanks for putting up with me!_

_Oh yeah, almost forgot to mention...Vanessa, the first parts for you!! Hope it meets with your approval and thanks again._

_And another thing I almost forgot...there's one or maybe two gross parts that you may not want to be eating while you're reading...sorry._

Chapter 10

"You first Bobby. You tell me what the hell is going on and what the hell is doing this to Dean," Sam practically demanded as he plopped himself down hard onto the bed next to his brother's incessantly thrashing body. Dean continued to clutch his head hard in his fists as he twisted and squirmed violently on the bed, his legs repeatedly kicking at the blankets that had been covering him but were now just bunched up at his feet until they finally decided to fall uselessly onto the floor amid the constant leg movements of the agonized body jerking around helplessly on the bed. He waited for Dean's anguished roll to bring him onto his back again before grabbing him by the wrists and forced him to still somewhat as he spoke to him firmly. "Dean, look at me."

"Sammy…" his eyes never opened as the voice that was barely a whisper came out in response to Sam's command, the pain in the tone clearly evident to both men. "You fell asleep Sammy."

"I know…I couldn't help it. I'm sorry," Sam conceded as his guilty eyes drifted to Bobby's disappointed ones, his own tone tinged with a sharp hint of remorse.

"S'okay Sam, I know you're tired too," he reassured his baby brother after hearing Sam's upset tone of voice as his body finally found itself somewhat on the verge of relaxation now that his brother's words were the only sounds he could hear in his throbbing skull anymore. The longer he lay motionless with his arms still clutched tightly in Sam's iron grip, the more he was aware of the brutally painful pulsing in his head and his stomach decided it was time to prepare the expected response to the cranial assault. "Uhh Sammy…"

"What? What is it?" Sam asked him cautiously, not liking the way his name sounded when it came from Dean's lips.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," he informed him flatly as his stomach started to clench and his already heavy breathing escalated itself into a harsh, labored pant.

"Oh no you're not," Sam immediately rolled Dean's shivering body away from him and onto his side as he quickly slid his hand under the heavy hoodie he'd been wearing and started rubbing his back in small, circular motions between his shoulder blades, speaking to him as calmly and as soothingly as he possibly could in the hopes of preventing his brother from expelling the only thing he'd eaten in days. "Deep breaths Dean, just take deep breaths and it'll pass."

Dean did just that, or tried his best to anyway as Sam kept whispering softly to him to relax and try to breathe. Forcing himself to take in one large lungful of air after another instead of the short, quick gasps he had been drawing in and feeling Sam's warm hand pressed against the cool skin of his back as he tried to calm him seemed to help and after a few very anxious moments, the intense nausea that had struck him seemed to dissipate, leaving him bone-chillingly cold and bathed in sweat. Sam felt his brother's body slacken as his breathing slowed a little, the slight tremble his frame still made being the only visible sign of distress that remained.

"You ok now?" Sam finally dared to ask when the room had gone eerily silent, the only sound contained inside the four walls around them being Dean's still somewhat rapid breathing.

"I think so," he muttered as he tried shaking his head, the action clearly making him wince just a little. "See…I told you."

"You told me what?" Sam asked him while trying to get him to roll over onto his back again and motioning for Bobby to toss him his bag that was sitting on the floor practically at the older man's feet.

"Told you you'd be cleaning up puke all morning," Dean softly declared, and rather groggily at that.

"You didn't puke bro," Sam reminded him as if Dean had just forgotten the last couple minutes entirely, turning away from him only long enough to start digging through the duffel that Bobby had placed right next to him and extracting a brown pill bottle after expending little to no effort to find it, the gentle shake he gave it telling Bobby he needed some water to go along with it.

"Morning's not over yet," he mumbled in return, opting to open just one eye instead of both then immediately shutting it again when the light in the room tore through his ocular cavity and sent another jolt of pain sharply into his head, causing his face to squeeze into more than just a wince as he tried rolling back onto his side again.

"Is it just your head Dean, or did that burger make you sick?" Sam questioned him, gently forcing him to stay on his back for the time being and spilling out one of the pills from the bottle into his hand, then spilling out another when he saw the grimace flash across Dean's colorless face.

"It's just my head Sam," he answered as he unconsciously laid his hand across his own forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb.

"Can you sit up a little to take something for it?" He inquired but didn't really expect to hear an answer nor did he bother to wait for one. Sliding his arm under Dean's shoulders, he lifted him up off the bed enough to stuff a couple more pillows underneath him, leaving him upright enough to at least swallow. Without asking again when he got no response to the question the first time, Sam just slipped the caplets between his brother's pale blue lips that stood out in stark contrast to his ghostly white face as Bobby handed him the water bottle he had run out to his truck to retrieve, not wanting to tempt the fates any more by giving Dean just plain tap water. Everything in this room was screwed up and he couldn't even be sure that that didn't include the water supply flowing in from the outside. It may be safe out there in the real world but once it came into the room, all bets were off.

"What was that?" Dean questioned when he finally got enough water over his teeth and down his throat to rid his mouth of not only the chalky white residue that had spread across his tongue when he didn't swallow the pills right away but the metallic taste of blood that had partially induced the need to vomit earlier.

"Vicodin," Sam stated simply, not bothering to beat around the bush.

"Where'd you get those from?" Dean questioned, quite curiously.

"When I broke my arm. I've been holding on to them…you know, just in case."

"And this qualifies as 'just in case'?"

"If this doesn't, I don't know what does."

"Sam…"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you petting me like a dog?" Dean very casually asked his little brother, who had been unconsciously stroking his older brother's forehead with his thumb while his hand rested gently atop his head.

"It's a… Zen-like, it's supposed to help you relax," he told Dean rather nonchalantly as he tried to hide the modicum of embarrassment he felt when he realized what he had subconsciously been doing but knowing his brother would believe the line of bullshit he was feeding him considering Dean probably thought Zen was actually an imported beer to be savored at five dollars a bottle. Truth be told, Sam was doing it in an effort to relax not just his brother but himself as well.

"It's gay dude, cut it out," he snapped as he meekly tried slapping Sam's hand away but missed the offending appendage by nearly a foot.

"You may think it's gay, but it kept you from tossing your cookies, didn't it?" Sam couldn't help but defend his actions, pretty proud of the fact that he had won one minor battle against the room for a change.

"You just keep thinking that if it helps you sleep at night, queer bait," he teased his rather stressed out little brother before turning his slowly fading attention to the other person in the room. "I guess this means Bobby better talk fast because once that shit you just shoved in my mouth kicks in I got a feeling I won't be paying too much attention anymore."

"Boy, who said you were paying attention to begin with?" Bobby finally spoke now that Dean made it very clear he knew the older man was there in the room with them. "Hell, when I talk, you usually don't pay attention at all."

"Nice to see you too Bobby," Dean forced a slight smile and a lazy wave in the direction his voice had come from, happy to hear that the man was finally there and willing to help them.

"You look like shit kid," Bobby continued his gentle ribbing, his deep concern well hidden from both brother's behind his snide comments.

"Yeah…well, I look a whole lot better than I feel," he huffed somewhat and it was clear to both men staring at him that he had already started to drift off again, and not just from the drugs.

"Don't worry about what Sam and I are talking about. You just get some rest and we'll fill you in later," the older man told the younger, his words going mostly unheard by Dean who had clearly already fallen back into a light state of sleep. Standing and stretching before grabbing the blankets that had been kicked off his brother's body onto the floor, he pulled them up to cover Dean now that he was clearly chilled again.

"Good lord Sam, you didn't tell me he was this bad when we were on the phone," Bobby somewhat laid into the youngest of the three when he was pretty sure Dean couldn't hear what they were saying anymore.

"That's because he wasn't this bad when we were on the phone," Sam argued, wondering to himself if his lapse of attention when he had dozed off for what he was sure was just a few moments had added to Dean's already precarious condition.

"How long have you two been in this room?" Bobby changed the subject rather abruptly, not wanting to waste time debating with the obviously over-stressed young man. They had more important things to discuss at the moment.

"A little over a day now," Sam told him, hoping his calculations were correct. Everything had blended together so much now he really couldn't be sure what day it even was.

"Damn, she's working fast. All the other victims lasted about three days. At this rate, she'll finish him off by breakfast tomorrow," Bobby said, more to himself then to Sam as he let his thoughts actually make their way out of his mouth.

"What other victims? What is going on Bobby?" Sam nearly demanded when he saw the wheels in the veteran hunter's head start turning. "What's happening to him and why isn't it happening to me too?"

"Because you're not the one that woke her up," Bobby stated plainly, still trying to gather his thoughts enough to express them all to Sam in an order that they would all make the most sense in.

"Woke her up? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Far as I can tell, this room hasn't been used in over twenty years. Long time to go without a snack," Bobby mindlessly started telling him as he continued to ponder and Sam was starting to get frustrated. "I'm figuring when they closed this room off and the buffet dried up she just finally went dormant until your dip shit brother decided to bleed all over everywhere which pretty much summoned her out of hibernation and put him dead center of the snack tray."

"Bobby, you're not making any sense. You said something about a langsuir on the phone. Dad's journal said something about a langsuir being a woman that died during childbirth. What, exactly, is it we're dealing with?"

"The information I dug up is a little sketchy but I'm almost positive that's what we're dealing with. She's a vengeful spirit that is feeding off the blood of her male victims and if you ask me it's because that boyfriend of hers probably just left her here die."

"Did she die in this room? Is that what's going on?"

"Yeah Sam, she died in this room and if I had to guess from some of the police photos I actually saw, I'd have say it was right on that very same bed your brother's sleepin' on right now. It's probably why she's trapped here."

That comment sent a chill straight up Sam's spine and he outwardly shuddered when he thought about it. It took all the willpower he had in him to not drag his brother's unconscious form off that bed and onto the other one, knowing it really wouldn't make much of a difference but not really wanting Dean sleeping on the foul mattress any longer. "Tell me what happened? I need to know."

"February 12th, 1983. The police were called here to room eight by the owners, Pam and Alex Hutchinson. Seems their 17 year old daughter Jeannie had been keeping a little secret from them and they were about to find it out the hard way when the cleaning lady came in screaming at the top of her lungs that there was a dead body covered in blood in the room, the room that shouldn't have had anyone staying in it in the first place. Cops found her naked from the waist down in a nightgown that had been hiked up to her chest in that bed right there with a blanket thrown over her that was soaked with blood. The owners never came down to see what was going on before calling the police and they didn't even know it was their own daughter until one of the detectives asked them to come into the room to see if they could possibly make an ID."

"Wait a second… Jeannie, what did she look like?" Sam interrupted Bobby's train of thought to ask the question he so desperately needed to hear the answer to.

"She looked dead Sam. What the hell do you think she looked like," he snapped, irritated that his verbal roll had been broken and not really knowing why Sam would want to know in the first place since that detail really didn't matter much.

"I think I may have seen her Bobby, right before you got here," Sam started to tell him, the comment causing his face to wear that guilty look once again when he realized he never would have caught that glimpse if he hadn't done exactly what Bobby had told him not to do. "I heard you pounding on the door and when I opened my eyes I saw someone take off into the bathroom. When I turned on the light though, it was empty. White dress, long dark hair, that about sum her up?"

"Pretty much, 'cept with all that blood, the nightie wasn't exactly white anymore," Bobby confirmed Sam's suspicions, and then made to continue his story. "You can probably figure what the police first thought, finding only her lower half all bloody and naked. Nobody knew for sure what really happened until the autopsy was done. That's when they found out she had been pregnant."

"Bobby… what happened to the baby?" Sam interrupted again, but this time Bobby just kept going considering that was the part he was getting to next.

"They never found it, alive or dead. The cops' first theory was she did something to it but the coroner told them that was impossible since she pretty much bled to death right after having the baby."

"How do they know that?" Sam asked, not really needing to know but asking anyway.

"You really want to know?" Bobby inquired, wanting to make sure the already visibly upset young man wanted to hear it.

"Yes, I really want to know," Sam boldly stated, then suddenly changing his mind when he saw the sickened look on Bobby's face.

"Because the afterbirth was still in there. It never came out after the baby did so they figured she had to have died not long after the kid was born."

"Ok… sorry I asked," Sam mumbled in a rather disgusted tone when he heard Bobby's answer and decided it would be better to remain silent until he was done with the gory details, not really finding the need to ask any more stupid questions just yet.

"So, with the filicide theory shot in the ass, the only other person they could consider a suspect was the baby's father. Unfortunately for the cops, nobody seemed to know who that was. Since little Jeannie was so good at keeping her secrets, she took that one to her grave with her too. With nothing else to go on, the case went cold not long after. The parents put the place up for sale sometime in November that same year. That was also when they gave that room out for the first time after her death to a young couple from Boise that were passing through and got trapped in an early season snowstorm. Three days they stayed in that room until cops got another call about another dead body. Seems the seemingly healthy twenty-four year old man that had suddenly taken ill right after checking in died in his sleep. Wife said he was fine when they got there then started getting sick after the first night. He got worse and worse until one morning she woke up and he didn't."

"What was the cause of death," Sam wanted to know that little fact, and he wanted to know it now, before anything else as he quickly glanced in his brother's direction.

"Plain and simple heart failure. Wife said she blamed herself. She'd been up for over thirty-six hours nursing him and watching him like a hawk until she just couldn't keep her eyes open anymore and finally fell asleep and that's when he died. Natural causes, case closed."

"Somehow I'm betting there's more, isn't there?"

"You know it. Second victim was a twenty-five year old man that died in March of 1984. Cause of death was 'undetermined' by the coroner's office. He checked in alone after, guess what…a late season, heavy snowfall, and stayed here for nearly three days before they found him. People in the room next door said he would be screaming at all kinds of odd hours like he was having nightmares or something, then he would just go quiet for hours on end again."

"Nightmares? Are you sure?" Sam couldn't hide his surprise and Bobby could almost tell exactly what he was thinking.

"Hold that thought Sam. I got a feeling I know where you're going with it, but there's more, lots more still and this is the part you want to pay close attention to. The third victim, a healthy twenty-six year old, checked in with his wife in January of 1985, and yes, in the middle of being pounded with nearly a foot of snow. Wife said he was fine when they got there but after about a day he was nearly all the time exhausted and was having trouble breathing. By the second day she figured he was so out of it because he'd been having nightmares and couldn't sleep even though he was dead tired all the time. By the third day, he'd gotten so sick she called an ambulance. He died on the way to the hospital, screaming in agony. Cause of death, ruptured spleen and a brain hemorrhage. Oh hey, natural causes and again, case closed. It's not like the local cops would suspect something was killing these men anyway."

"Bobby… Dean was having nightmares yesterday. I know of at least one, but knowing Dean, I'm sure there were more."

"Now why am I not surprised at that," Bobby snorted then shot Sam a look telling him that he unbelievably wasn't done yet. "There's one more Sam. Twenty-seven year old man checked in with his wife and daughter. Three days later, he was dead after choking in his sleep."

"Uhh, Bobby…"

"Don't tell me, Dean was choking in his sleep too, right?" Sam said nothing this time; he just looked Bobby in the eye and shook his head before the older man continued. "Yeah, that's what I thought. What else Sam? What else haven't you told me yet?"

"I think that's it, at least I can't think of anything else. So, what do we do now?"

"Well, everything I've come across so far points to her being a ghost and what do we do to ghosts? Once day breaks, I'm going to try to find her grave and dig her up to salt and burn her, then we torch that bed. I'm figuring that'll do the trick, nice and neat."

"I sure hope you're right because I don't think he can take a whole lot more, and neither can I," Sam sighed heavily and he suddenly realized he didn't know what the hell he would do if Bobby wasn't there right now.

"I hear ya kid. Listen Sam, we've got hours before I can hit the spots I need to check out, so since that diner across the street seems to be open and I skipped dinner trying to look all this shit up, I'm gonna go get some grub. You want anything? And don't say no 'cuz you look like you need to eat something nearly as bad as that one over there," he motioned to Dean, who had finally found his way onto his side and was now curled up into a ball with the blankets wrapped tightly around him, that god awful shivering back with a vengeance again.

"Whatever you're having's fine. I'm not very hungry anyway."

"You may not be hungry, but you gotta eat. I'll bring something back for the princess over there too. I think he may need it when he finally decides to wake up. Speaking of waking up, you think you can stay alert 'til I get back?"

"I don't think that'll be a problem."

"Good, 'cuz I ain't done talking yet and you ain't done listening."

_TBC_

_End Notes: Well, insomnia seems to have struck again and that's not always a good thing because it prevents me from thinking straight. I'm not really sure I like how this turned out, but you tell me. Not really sure fresh eyes in the morning will help since I can't seem to fall asleep anyway...maybe Sam needs to take a lesson. (Ahh, just kidding...see, I'm rambling again)_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author's Notes: Yeah, yeah, I finally updated it. I won't bother apologizing for the long delay because I'm sure everyone's sick of hearing it anyway. Thanks for reading and have a great 4th of July everyone. (Well, for everyone that celebrates it anyway.) I'll stop apologizing for not responding to reviews because let's face it, I just can't seem to get my rear in gear to do it. I will say thank you right now for all of them though, each and every one is read and greatly appreciated!**_

_**I'd also like to thank BeautifulCarWreck for reading this over… it was much appreciated and I thank you again.**_

Chapter 11

Now that Sam had the basic gist of what he thought was going on inside room eight of the Traveler's Oasis Motel/Whispering Pines Inn, Bobby wanted nothing more than to dig that poor girl up and put her to rest right now; especially considering what she was dong to Dean. As much as he wanted to despise her for not only what she had become but for slowly killing one of the two men he'd consider it an honor to have as his own son, he really couldn't put any of the blame on her, not entirely anyway. She had obviously had the misfortune of drawing one of the short straws in life as much as Dean had drawn one when he unwittingly entered the accursed room he was quite possibly dying in right now and the unfortunate circumstances all the way around forced the two of them together, her being a victim to some nameless face back then just as much as Dean was one to her now. Judging by the pictures he had examined of the scene, she had died a lonely, horrible death and deserved to be resting in peace. Giving his head a quick shake to clear it of the piteous thoughts starting to consume it, he took one more quick look at the shivering form lying curled up under a small mound of blankets and let his mind remember exactly what it was that was causing that potentially fatal downward spiral. He had never seen Dean as sick and helpless as he was right now in the twenty plus years he had known him, and it truly frightened him.

"Hey Sam, will ya fix that clock before I get back? That constant flashing is starting to drive me crazy," Bobby asked as nicely as he could before walking out the door and Sam realized for the first time that he had been ignorant of the fact that the alarm clock on the nightstand was flashing 12:00 in bold, red numbers again. With nothing better to do at the moment but listen to the quiet in the room, Sam just took his sweet time correcting the display, the red 12:00 being changed to the proper 6:45 before being deposited back onto the nightstand where it belonged.

With nothing else to occupy his mind other than what Bobby had told him, Sam just started nervously pacing the floor like an expectant father on crack as he waited for the older man to return, occasionally chewing on his nails, rubbing his forehead, or running a hand through the tousled mess of what he called hair on his head, the frequent glances he made in his brother's direction as he passed by doing nothing but make his stomach churn and his head ache. He was sure it was the Vicodin that had pulled Dean down into the seemingly blissful slumber he appeared to be so deeply in, peaceful except for the shuddering that seemed to come and go at will. He would be shaking uncontrollably one minute, then go still the next and it was exhausting Sam just to watch him. He refused to sit though and as the minutes ticked by on the clock, he continued his patrol of the room for nearly a half hour before Bobby returned; his mind now filled with more questions than answers since all he had to do during Bobby's absence was to think..

He didn't knock upon his return, he just opened the door and let himself back in, breathing an inaudible sigh of relief to see Sam standing there watching him come back in instead of the previous alternative he had worried he'd walk into since the second he had walked out the door. Moseying up to the small table at the foot of the bed that Dean continued to sleep on, Bobby let the bags he carried drop and starting emptying them piece by piece, sliding one rather large, white container in Sam's direction and pointing to the chair in front of it indicating Sam should sit before doing the same for himself.

"Sit down and eat Sam. I got a feeling it's gonna be a long day," Bobby forcefully suggested and Sam rather mindlessly did as he was told, dropping himself hard into the cheap, plastic chair and staring at the 

cardboard container sitting on the table waiting for him to open it to reveal what was inside. He had so many questions, he wasn't really sure where to start, but he had to start somewhere. Grabbing his fork and tossing the lid to the side, he ate while he spoke now that his mind was overloaded with things to ask.

"It's your turn now Sam. What the hell has been going on in here since I talked to you on the phone yesterday? When did shit start hitting the fan in horse sized clumps because it sure didn't sound like things were this bad when I talked to you yesterday afternoon?" Bobby initiated the conversation, not even giving Sam a moment to start at the top of his own growing list.

"It was right after I talked to you the first time. I came back here from the diner and when I opened the door, I found him rolling around pretty violently on the floor like he was struggling against something that just wasn't there. He couldn't breathe again and when I finally got him to settle down and look at me it was like he… it was like he was afraid of me Bobby." There was a slight hint of hurt in his voice when he recalled that frantic look in his brother's eyes as he lay there choking on the floor and he had to clear his throat before continuing. "I think that first trip we tried making to the car took more out of him then he was letting on because when I finally got him to calm down, he could barely pick his head up off the floor. I cleaned him up and got him back on the bed and he just passed out again. That sign hitting me in the back of the head must have done me in too because I think I fell asleep right after he did until Brian came and delivered your message."

"The what that hit you where?" Bobby couldn't contain his surprise when Sam mentioned that for the first time and he quickly stood to lean over the tiny table and looked the young man square in the eyes as he forced Sam's eyelids open wide to make sure they were focused on him.

"The wind ripped a sign off its post and it hit me in the head when I started walking back. It was no big deal Bobby, really. I was only out for a couple seconds."

"No big deal? You're lucky you're not dead kid. No wonder you keep falling asleep Sam, you probably have a damn concussion. Hell, you're lucky you're both not dead by now."

"Yeah, that's what Brian said too. The guy's annoying, but he always seems to be in the right place at the right time," Sam gave credit at least where credit was due. He had been grateful that the young man had been nosily sticking around on some of the occasions he had been.

"I assume Brian's the twit in the office that I talked to earlier that has no clue what an Impala is 'cept that it's big, old and black," Bobby questioned, not sure he ever got the kids actual name. Twit worked just fine for Bobby.

"That'd be him. I called you from out in the parking lot right after he brought me your message, but Dean…he was really out of it by then and..."

"I know... I heard the kid yelling at you before you lost the call and I knew something was really wrong."

"I thought if I just got him out of the room he'd be ok, but that didn't go very well. We only made it halfway to the car that time before he doubled over again, thankfully without the screaming. He somehow dragged himself back inside. I told him I was gonna call an ambulance when I saw the blood on his lips and chin again and it took forever for him to just slow his breathing down. He practically begged me not to, said the room wouldn't let him leave. I thought he was just mumbling nonsense to get out of going to the hospital, you know, like he always does. We at least got that doctor in the other room to come over to check him out and I already told you what she said. After I hung up with you, I just sat down to wait and the next thing I knew, you were here.

"Good thing you listened to him for once 'cuz he'd probably be dead if you hadn't."

"Bobby, you didn't seem the least bit surprised when I told you about the nightmares or the choking," he started, not posing it so much as a question but surely implying it that way. "You didn't seem very surprised at anything I just told you actually. What gives?"

"I had a buddy pull the police reports from the first, third, and fourth victims Sam. The wives all gave pretty much the same story you just gave me, but since the deaths were all ruled natural causes it really didn't matter. All three men were fine when they checked in until the nightmares started, and they started relatively immediately after checking in too. Each one of the three had them for a day or two and each one of them ended up being so exhausted in the end they could barely keep their heads up until they eventually just died, well, except for the third one," Bobby pretty much answered Sam's non-question as he tossed Dean a quick look and nodded his head. "Any of this sound strikingly familiar?"

"Why the nightmares?" Sam did pose his next set of thoughts as an actual question.

"They're sort of a diversion. It's like she can sense her victim's worst fears and she uses them against them. The mind is so preoccupied with the nightmare that it has no idea what's going on outside of it until it's too late. Eventually, the victims are too weak to fight anymore and she doesn't need to the distraction as cover. Sheer exhaustion does that little trick for her. She just waits until they pass out and then goes to town. Dean's a perfect example. He was so out of it that he didn't even realize what was happening to him right before I got here. I hate to say it Sam, but I'm pretty sure when you saw her hightail it into the crapper, she wasn't just dropping by to leave a mint on his pillow," he told Sam and quickly regretted it when he saw the young man's guilty reaction to the reminder of his earlier lack of attention that had been brought up not to shame him but only to help him prove his point.

"Gee, thanks. It makes me feel a whole lot better to know that Dean's probably worse now because of me," Sam remarked, his eyes dropping from Bobby's stare down to his plate as he aimlessly picked at his food, what little appetite he may have had leaving him when he thought about that thing sucking the life out of his brother as he sat sleeping totally unawares only feet away not once but twice. Technically three times if you considered what Sam was now convinced had to have been a nightmare that very first time Dean woke up not breathing before bolting into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. Somehow he had known there was more to it than just a concussion and now he knew he had been right.

"I didn't mean it like that Sam so quit dwelling on it. Have you already forgotten you took a head shot yourself that was hard enough to put you down for a few? What's done is done so forget it and move on," he tried to brush off the comment that he had let somewhat callously come out of his mouth before continuing, needing Sam to participate fully in the conversation with him. Sam may have a lot of questions, but Bobby had a few of his own that still needed answering too. "Do you know when his last nightmare was?"

Returning his gaze back to the man with the answers to just about everything that was now asking the questions himself, he thought for a brief moment before responding. "I don't know for sure, but if I had to guess it would be the one he had yesterday afternoon after I talked to you the first time when he damn near clawed his own throat out. God, are you telling me she was the one choking him? Those bruises in the shape of fingers on his neck, is that where they came from? They came from her?"

"If I was a bettin' man, I'd lay money on it. So, what you're telling me is that you were in this room less than a day between the time the nightmares started and the time they stopped, that right?"

"Sounds about right," Sam agreed and didn't like the look on Bobby's face when he did.

"I was afraid of that," he expressed a deep concern as he scratched his beard to help him think. "Jesus Sam, she's bleeding him faster than his body can recover and that is not good. The other victims at least had the nightmares for a little over a day, nearly two and lasted a good three before they just couldn't take it anymore. His stopped twelve hours in and I swear an atomic bomb couldn't wake him right now, Vicodin 

or not. If we weren't here she would probably be going to town on him and I'm thinking' she's been dormant so long she just doesn't know when to stop. Thank god you came back into the room when you did or she probably would have killed him right there."

"She nearly did. He wasn't breathing when I found him and if I'd come in two minutes later…" Sam visibly shivered at that unfinished thought and promptly changed its direction. "What I don't get is why she would try to choke him to death if she wants to keep feeding on him. It doesn't make any sense."

"It makes perfect sense Sam. Normal people have normal nightmares. With what's probably rolling around in that screwed up head of his she sure had plenty of material to choose from and only god knows what he was actually dreaming about…"

"I know what he was dreaming about," Sam quietly interjected, the already long look on his haggard face becoming even longer as he remembered what Dean had let slip to him from his nearly asleep state. "I asked him who was choking him and he said it was me. I was the one choking him in his dream Bobby…me. She used me against him."

"Well, that would qualify as one of his worst nightmares, now wouldn't it? You and I have both seen what happens firsthand when Dean has a nightmare of epic proportions and it isn't pretty. As hard as he tried to hide it, I know he had his fair share after your daddy died and it was probably the only way she could hold him down long enough to… well, you get the idea. You know as well as I do that the longer a spirit is restless, the more insane it becomes. Insanity doesn't do much for self control, especially when you're the undead."

"None of that explains why Dean can't leave the room. Every time we try, he drops like a rock by the time we make it to the car and he's always got blood in his mouth when we come back in," Sam stated that fact rather dumbfounded and amazingly Bobby thought he had an answer to that as well.

"Some of the legends say that a langsuir can possess its victim and feed on it from the inside which would pretty much mean that she's attached to Dean like flies on shit. The second your brother dropped blood in that bathroom sink he was pretty much screwed because it's all she needed to get her claws into him, dig them in nice and deep, and hang on for the ride. Every time you two try to leave, there's some part of her that's worked its way so deep inside him that it must start to tear him apart. Probably why he spits up blood the way he does. I just hope any internal damage she may have caused isn't helping speed things along. I think that's what may have happened to the third victim, the one that died in the ambulance. Shit just started hemorrhaging inside when he tried to escape and that was it."

"But why Dean and not me?" Sam asked next, almost as if he wanted it to be him instead.

"Dean was the one that bled in the room Sam, not you and in case you hadn't noticed, each victim goes up one year in age, almost like she's killing her boyfriend over and over again. I'd have to say she's pretty pissed off at that guy and she has every right to be. Too bad we can't find him and bleed him out in the room. Maybe she'd leave Dean alone and take her anger out on the one that deserves it."

"I'm pretty sure that's not an option at the moment, so what's the plan. How are we gonna stop her?" Sam already had a pretty good idea what Bobby's response to that would be and was hoping it would be as simple as expected.

"Well, soon as the library opens up, I'm gonna head over to it and pull her obit from the newspaper archives. I'm figuring the funeral arrangements will be detailed and I can head to the funeral home to find out where she's buried. The rest should be obvious. Once that's done, I think we need to drag that bed out back and take a torch it too. I'm sure that's not the same mattress considering how much blood had soaked into it but the bed frame looks the same and I have serious doubts about that box spring. Better to be safe than sorry, that's what I say," Bobby rambled is explanation as he eyed his watch, anxious to get 

this particular salt and burn over with quickly. "Then we try to get Dean out of here and to the nearest hospital to get checked out. I'm betting once we cut her off he'll start improving pretty quick but as I already said, better to be safe than sorry."

"Hey Bobby… what about the baby? The cops really never had any leads on it?" Sam wasn't sure why he was asking again, he just was.

"Nope. It's like the damn thing just disappeared. Cops theorized that maybe the boyfriend took it when she died and either raised it himself, abandoned it somewhere, killed it, or maybe even sold it but since they couldn't find him or the baby, they really have no idea. My theory… I say the bastard took it to make sure nobody ever found it or him. If my guess is right, he was twenty-three or twenty-four and last time I checked, the age of consent in Wisconsin is eighteen. Little Jeannie was just a little short of that milestone and Wisconsin prison inmates don't take too kindly to statutory rapists. Good motive to me to not wanna get caught, but it's all speculation and there's really no use wasting the energy trying to figure it out anyway, is there? It ain't gonna change anything happening here now, is it?"

"I don't know, I just can't shake the feeling that it may be important," Sam stated as he pondered, not really knowing why he wanted to figure out the entire mystery so badly. His head was starting to throb as it tried to process all the new information swimming around inside it, the thought of the baby still nagging at him as it floated atop everything else pooled in his mind.

"Well, spit it out or shake it 'cuz we don't have a whole lot of time for feelings. It's nearly nine now and I have no idea how long it's gonna take to get into town now that the friggin' winds have picked up again and visibility is for shit. I still gotta take the damn chains off my tires too before I set foot anywhere near the downtown area since they ain't totally legal in this state. Library opens at ten so hopefully I'll be back here no later then noon. You sure it's safe for me to leave you two here alone together without a sitter? I'm sorry Sam, but he's already too weak and she's way too aggressive for you to be falling asleep again so she can start leeching on him again. I'm afraid the next time may just be the final straw," Bobby didn't want what he had just said to sound as accusatory as it had, but he had to say it as bluntly as possible. The last thing he needed was to come back to the room to find Sam sound asleep and Dean dead.

"I swear, we'll be ok here. It's just that… every time she attacks him, he wakes up and says he hears…" Sam started to say, the light, somewhat wet sounding cough that broke out from behind him shattering his train of thought, then the hoarse voice following it as Dean tried to roll over drawing both men's undivided attention.

"Sam…"

_End Notes:__Thanks for reading everyone!_


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Notes: Hi everyone! Remember me? I seem to have climbed out of the primordial slime of my decimated personal life to actually write something. Not exactly what I wanted it to be, but it's a start to get back into the swing of things. My apologies to everyone that has taken the time to read my ramblings and many thanks to those of you that haven't given up on me!**

Chapter 12

"Sam…" the light cough, then the raspy voice from across the room garnered both men's attention the instant they heard it and Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed before Bobby even had a chance to pull his thoughts together and blink. Tugging the blanket he was tangled up in down from his brother's shoulders enough to see his ghostly face, he breathed a slight sigh of half-relief to see that the cough had been nothing more than that… a lone cough.

"What's wrong Dean?" Sam tentatively posed the question to the set of barely opened eyes as he rested a hand on his brother's slightly shivering shoulder, not really sure he wanted to hear how Dean would answer it.

"Gotta go…" Dean stammered rather groggily while trying to gaze through those barely open, rather glassy and very bloodshot eyes as he tried his best to focus on Sam's bleary face.

"Dude, you know we can't go anywhere yet. It's still morning and Bobby can't salt and burn those bones until it gets dark," Sam interrupted his brother's seemingly jumbled train of thought, fear starting to rise in the pit of his stomach that Dean was starting to get disoriented and confused on top of everything else. "Just hold on a few more hours man and we'll be out of here the first chance we get, ok?"

"Not what I meant Sammy…" Dean mumbled back at his little brother, who obviously wasn't really listening to what he was trying to say. With the unsteady rise of his one free hand and the shaky pointing of a finger in the direction of the dark room just beyond the foot of the bed, he reiterated his comment with a little firmer tone of voice. "I gotta go."

Sam twisted his head around almost too fast for his eyes to follow, but he didn't need to look behind him to see just what, exactly, it was Dean was talking about. He sat on the edge of the bed watching as his older sibling struggled mightily to roll himself over and pull his body free from the covers that were wrapped around him and restricting his movements, frustration finally bringing him almost fully out of the drug-induced haze he seemed to be floating lazily in to make Sam aware of what should have been obvious as he sat blankly staring at the sparring match between man and blanket in front of him.

"Uh Sam, do you think you could remove your rear end from the bed? These damn blankets are like a friggin' straight jacket under your bony ass," Dean managed to spit out now that the losing battle he was having with the covers atop him was beginning to suck the air from his lungs, leaving him nearly breathless. Bobby had apparently been the only one paying attention to the struggle and with one quick jerk, ripped the comforter out from under Dean's suddenly lax body to free him from the bedding restraints, the motion nearly knocking Sam off balance where he sat.

"Hey Beavis and Butthead, you two sure you're gonna be ok here while I'm gone?" Bobby just shook his head as he asked the question, his concern at the moment more for Sam than Dean. If Sam couldn't keep his head on straight, what chances of survival did Dean really have in the condition he was in?

"Yeah, yeah, go already…" Dean muttered through heavy breaths as he kicked off the last remnants of the evil blankets and put all his remaining energy into actually sitting up, the irritation in his voice going totally unbelieved as he flashed the older hunter a quick, reassuring grin.

Reaching for the door, Bobby twisted the knob and pulled, exposing the room to the harsh elements still raging their own battle outside. The blast of cold air rushing in landed directly on the man sitting heavily on the bed in nothing but boxers and a hoodie and chilled Dean's already frigid body straight to the bone, the shiver it initiated clearly visible as it worked its way up and down his entire frame. "Behave yourselves until I get back and for Christ's sake, stay awake Sam," he barked into the room before slamming the door shut behind him, blessedly cutting off the arctic blast assaulting them.

Sam stood next to Dean in silence and eyed him carefully as he sat there upright on the edge of the bed with his bare feet planted on the floor and his face buried in his hands while his elbows dug into his knees and waited patiently for a cue from his brother that would let him know if he wanted or needed his help. Dean could feel his little brother's eyes boring into him the longer he sat motionless and waited for the room to stop spinning, his stomach still trying to decide which way it was going to launch that cold lump of beef with the soggy, greasy bun that Sam called a hamburger he was forced to eat earlier. Once he realized by the rumbling that had slowly started to develop in his intestines that it had advanced too far down the digestive tract to come back up and would be taking a different route of exit, he made the mistake of standing all too quickly and was thankful for the firm hand he felt under his arm that stopped him from falling right back down again. Waiting the shortest amount of time he could for the room to stop swaying in more directions than Dean thought actually existed in the universe, he turned in the direction he thought the bathroom to be in and without saying a word started advancing forward before Sam stopped him after only a few short steps when his knees lightly brushed against something hard.

"Bathroom's the other way Dean. You keep going that way, you're gonna end up walking into the nightstand," he gently spoke as he turned Dean around and tried holding him there until he could get his bearings.

"I knew that," he tried to joke as he again put one foot as quickly as he possibly could in front of the other now that Sam had him turned in the right direction.

"Sure you did," he huffed back as he followed right alongside Dean's staggering steps to the bathroom door.

Sam reached in to turn on the light as Dean continued advancing forward into the small space, reaching for the sink to steady himself now that Sam was no longer next to him holding him up. 

Blindly feeling around behind him, he felt for the door and started to push it closed, only to be stopped by the sound of a slapping palm against the other side. "Uh uh… leave it open."

"Are you kidding me?" Dean incredulously asked, not really sure he believed what he just heard.

"No, I'm not kidding you," Sam confirmed his order without the slightest hint of hesitation.

"Sam, I'm not leaving the door open while I…" Dean started to protest, only to be cut off by Sam's rather dominating voice.

"In case you hadn't noticed lately Dean, you're not exactly safe anywhere in this room when you're alone and that includes the bathroom. You know what could happen the second you close that door and we can't risk it, so the door stays open."

"But… aww hell Sammy, I wouldn't even be in here right now if you'd just let me puke up that nasty piece of meat you forced down me earlier," he whined as he sat down rather awkwardly onto the seat, his unsteadiness nearly making him fall into the bathtub next to him. "At least have the courtesy to turn around then, will ya? It's bad enough you're gonna hear it, you don't need to see it too."

Having a relatively good idea of what Dean was trying to warn him of, Sam said nothing as he turned his back to his brother and waited, trying not to hear what Dean wanted so desperately to hide but being unable to avoid it. The brief groan that filled the air before an oppressive silence fell was enough to tell Sam that the worst was probably over, but the lack of any other sounds or movements from behind him for the longest time forced him to turn and take a quick glance into the tiny bathroom. Even with his head slumped to the side and resting against the cool porcelain of the sink next to him with his eyes tightly clamped shut as he breathed somewhat rapidly, he could feel that stare on him again, that stare that was starting to unnerve him.

"Are you alright?" Sam had to ask when Dean opened one eye to stare back, the look it gave asking Sam why he was invading what little privacy he had without saying a word and Sam immediately turned back around and focused on the farthest wall across the room now that there was some sort of activity going on behind his back.

"Oh yeah, I'm just peachy. Totally without any dignity anymore, but other than that, just peachy," he answered; his tone a totally grim and defeated one.

Forcing himself to stand as he reached for the door, Sam thought it finally safe to turn around to help his brother out of the room; pretty sure Dean wasn't going to make it back to the bed on his own considering he'd just expelled whatever bodily fluids may have remained inside him in a matter of seconds. Shoving the door open wide in the same motion he grabbed Dean's arm with, he couldn't help but notice what he was sure Dean had gotten a very good view of as the last remaining discolored swirls made their way down the toilet drain and were replaced by the clean, clear water flowing through the pipes and into the bowl. Wanting nothing more than to immediately throw his brother into the Impala and tear off into town but knowing he couldn't yet, Sam figured it better to play it cool for the moment rather than panic, the look on Dean's 

face telling him that he had indeed seen exactly what Sam had and it obviously had him scared more than he was letting on. Taking most of his brother's weight against him now that Dean's legs had started to shake, Sam walked him back to the bed and guided him slowly down onto it. Immediately rolling onto his side and away from his brother's prying stare, Dean curled himself into a tight ball as he pulled what blanket he could get a hand on up to his chin and let out a pained sigh.

"Your stomach bothering you again?" Sam asked; refusing to let the subject go but wanting to broach it gently and knowing full well his brother was well aware of what was happening to him at this point.

"What gives you that idea?" He answered with a question as nonchalantly as possible, never letting on how terrified he really felt at the moment.

"Because you never sleep curled up in a ball like that, that's why. Spill it, does it hurt?"

"Nah man, it just burns a little, that's all. Besides, who said I was going back to sleep? Since the TV doesn't work, I was actually hoping you'd do a little song and dance for me to pass the time, but no stripping though. I gotta draw the line somewhere."

"Not funny dude," Sam sharply commented as Dean tried beating around the bush to skirt an issue like he always did and Sam decided now was the time for the direct approach. "Where did that blood in the toilet come from Dean?"

There it was, thrown out there for the dogs to chew on and the bluntness of the question left Dean with the rare inability to speak for the moment. Sam knew he had struck a nerve when his brother's eyes went from shut tight to open wide the instant the word 'blood' rolled off his tongue and he didn't know what to say, nor could he figure out how the hell Sam had even known. _'Couldn't let me close the god damn door, could you Sammy?'_

"Where the hell do you think it came from Sam?" He shot out the answer rather defensively; the somewhat angered tone telling Sam to drop the subject before it even began because he was freaked out enough without having to talk about it too.

"I'm going to get Dr. Alice," Sam informed Dean as he started to rise from the bed until the remarkably firm hand that was suddenly clamped around his wrist stopped him.

"No you're not," Dean defiantly told his little brother as Sam tried pulling away, unable to figure out where Dean was getting the strength from that he suddenly seemed to possess to keep the grip as tight as it was.

"Dean, you're bleeding internally and it's obviously getting progressively worse even without her attacking you. Maybe she can do something…"

"Like what Sam? What do you think she'll be able to do? Come on man, use your head. The woman's not stupid. She's going to know that if Bobby got in, we can get out and if I remember 

correctly, you told her we'd head to the nearest hospital the first chance we get. Just let her think we're gone and leave it alone. The last thing we need is her trying to help drag me out of here because we both know how that will turn out."

"But…"

"No buts Sam, just drop it please," Dean's tone was a final one and Sam knew that should he even make an attempt at walking through the door, even in the condition he was in Dean would find some way to stop him and he just sighed in defeat and dropped himself down on the edge of the bed next to his ailing brother to sulk. "So, since we got nothing better to do, you wanna tell me a little more about the kinky dead bitch that gets off on choking me while we're sucking face?"

"You heard that part?" Sam asked, the question surprising him as he wondered how much else Dean had heard while he thought him to be asleep.

"Yeah, it was about the only thing I really heard but since I'm not into auto-erotic asphyxiation, I stopped listening so why don't you fill me in on the rest?"

"Auto-erotic is when you do it to yourself Dean," Sam felt the need to correct his brother; trying to avoid laying anymore stress on his already over-stressed brother.

"Whatever… either way, it's not my thing. Just tell me what the big plan is, will ya? It'll help keep me awake 'til Bobby gets back," he requested through a rather hearty yawn as he rubbed his eyes, desperate to keep them open until the older man returned.

"Ok, as soon as you eat something," Sam blatantly laid out his terms. He knew Dean had to eat, but he also knew he never would unless was forced to. God, he hated playing this game like his older brother was an obstinate child.

"What planet are you on that you think that would be a good idea right about now?"

"Last time I checked, I was on Earth and if I also remember Dr. Alice correctly, she said you needed to eat and I'm pretty sure she didn't mean just once. Bobby brought back food for you and you are going to eat it," the younger brother brandished his authority over the seemingly childish older one, not once budging in his conviction.

"Wanna bet?"

"You want me to talk?"

"Yeah, but…"

"Then you're going to eat," Sam said with a tone of finality. End of discussion.

"You really are a bitch, aren't you?"

"That's what you keep telling me jerk," Sam smiled in victory as he stood and made his way to the table to remove the remaining take-out container from one of the bags Bobby had brought back in with him and chuckled when he saw what else was inside along with a note written in Bobby's hand. Turning to face Dean, he was surprised to see his brother was no longer curled up on the bed but sitting up again as if ready to run for cover.

"Leave it on the table, I'm sick of being in that damn bed," he instructed as he slowly crept down to the foot of the bed, the hard, plastic chair lying just beyond the edge of the soft, comfy mattress. Once he reached the end of the bed and had nowhere else to go, he carefully aimed himself and lunged forward to project his body off the mattress and into the seat in one rather graceful move that surprised no only Sam but himself as well. The sudden movement caused the room to start spinning in a new myriad of directions all over again and it took a few long minutes before the world around him righted itself and all he could do was bury his face in his hands to ride the current wave out.

By the time he felt it was safe to peer through his eyelids again, he was grateful the room was stable until he saw the plate resting mockingly on the table directly under his nose, the normally appetizing scent of freshly scrambled eggs and sausage anything but that at the moment. With an almost joyous smile, Sam shoved a fork into Dean's loosely fisted hand and raised his eyebrows before sliding the Styrofoam cup that was hidden behind the bag in his direction and chuckled before he actually said a word.

"Bobby left a note here for you," Sam informed his brother as Dean took a pathetic sip at the straw protruding from the lidded cup and nearly gagged at the taste that filled his mouth before reading the message Sam finally slid in his direction. Even with his vision still somewhat blurry, he could make out the older hunter's handwriting as clear as day and it did anything but amuse him.

_A double dose of prune juice for you boy, because it's loaded with iron and you need all of it you can get. Make sure you drink it all too because believe me, I'm gonna ask Sam when I get back!_

"_That Bobby, always looking out for your best interests," Sam nearly laughed when he saw the look of disgust on Dean's face._

"Yeah, and if there's one thing old men know a lot about, it's prune juice," Dean said with a huff and at that Sam did laugh, if only a little. "Not a very smart thing to be drinking, considering what just happened in the bathroom, don't you think?"

Not even wanting to attempt downing what Dean considered only suitable for the old and the constipated, he started picking at the food on the plate before him and gave Sam the eye that told his baby brother to start talking, which he did when Dean started actually chewing and swallowing. The more Dean picked at his food, the less he listened with interest to what Sam was saying; his mind concentrating more on keeping the room temperature eggs and cold hunk of seasoned pork in his stomach instead of on the floor. By the time he'd cleared most of the 

protein from the container, Sam had relayed just about everything he and Bobby had discussed, leaving out the grislier details of what happened to poor Jeannie considering that Dean was making a monumental effort to eat.

Pushing everything to the side now that he was, in his opinion, done with it, he just stared at Sam and tried to sort through his thoughts enough to form questions, but he found that he was just too damn tired to even try. He'd been awake for nearly an hour now and, albeit pretty proud of the fact he'd remained conscious for more than ten minutes, he was totally spent. Turning his head in the direction of the bed, he looked at it, then to Sam and Sam readily took the hint. Offering an arm for support, Dean took hold of it and stood to cross the gap between the chair and the bed a little slower than the initial trip, pretty sure that if the room started spinning again, Sam would be wearing what he'd just tried so hard to ingest, if only to make his brother happy. The food now rumbling in his stomach had at least quelled the burning sensation for the time being and as he found a soft, comfortable spot and settled back in under the covers, he started to think that he may actually live to fight another day.

"Don't fall asleep just yet Dean, you're not done," Sam's tone was serious as he stood over him with that dreaded white cup in his hand, tapping a finger on the side of the foam while he waited for Dean to sit up enough to swallow. "I know you think it's funny, but you really do need to drink this juice and take another one of these vitamins."

"Yummy, shit juice and horse pills. What a way to top off the morning. Really Sam, can we just save them for dessert later, please?"

"No, we can't. The sooner you take this pill with this juice, the sooner I'll leave you alone."

"God, I hate you."

"No you don't," Sam reveled in his second victory of the day when Dean shoved the vitamin into his mouth out of sheer aggravation before sliding the straw as far down the back of his throat as he could without choking on it, the hopes of bypassing his taste buds as he sucked down every last drop of juice in the cup actually becoming a reality when all he noticed was a slight lingering, yet tolerable aftertaste.

"Happy? Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Yes and yes," Sam tried to smile at the scowl that was plastered on Dean's face and had it not been for the sheer lack of color his skin still had and the still too blue tinge to his lips, he would have thought the pout was amusing. Before Dean could even close his eyes, both men were startled by the hard knock on the door and Sam seemed frozen almost frozen in place.

"Hello, anyone in there," the familiar feminine voice called out as the knuckles rapped against the wood again and Dean just pulled the covers over his head to hide as Sam contemplated what to do next.

"Better go answer that Sammy, before she breaks the door down looking for us," Dean called out from his semi-hidden spot under the heavy blankets as Sam turned to the door and walked like a man on death row heading to the gas chamber, opening the door as slowly as he possibly could to reveal the concerned face on the other side.

"Good morning Dr. Alice," Sam forced a smile that was anything but genuine and judging by the look on the woman's face, he knew he better be prepared to do some fast talking.

**End Notes:****You'd probably never know it by that, but I'm almost in a happy place now... go figure.(and no, it's not an insane asylum...although that could be a happy place, depending on whose in it with you) Thanks again to all that are still reading!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: My apologies once again for the long delay in updates. I am working as fast as I can to get my stories to a completion and, as always, thank you all for your patience.**

Chapter 13

"Good morning, Dr. Alice," Sam forced a smile as he poked his head out into the cold, morning air; holding the door open only far enough to squeeze that much of himself through it.

"Good morning to you as well Sam and would you please just call me Alice?" The semi-stern face staring at him from the outer side of the doorway smiled as convincingly as possible back at the coy grin obviously being produced for appearances sake only as Sam stood in the doorway staring while he listened to the hasty rustle of blankets coming from behind him. Once hearing that Dean had finally gone still, Sam slid casually to the side and opened the door wide to allow her the access to the room that she had quite obviously come for and more than likely wouldn't be leaving without. Slowly taking one short step into the room with her brown bag hanging over her shoulder, she turned and faced Sam; her eyes telling him more than her words would let on just yet. "I just thought I'd drop by to see how things are going in here and maybe check on the patient."

"Things are going as well as can be expected," Sam answered rather evasively while his mind quickly ran through its options as to what to say next. Settling on one he hoped would keep the well-meaning woman at bay for a little while; he continued talking when he really should have stopped. "I think he may be a little better since earlier this morning now that he's gotten food into his stomach and got some decent sleep."

"That's good, I'm glad to hear that," she disbelievingly replied before getting down to the true nature of her visit. "Mind if I take a quick look at him?"

She made her demand sound more like a request, but judging by the way her eyebrows shot nearly to the top of her head when she looked first at Dean, then back to Sam, it didn't seem open for much debate and the younger brother wasn't totally sure he wanted to argue anyway. He had been the one that had wanted to sprint for the woman's room to drag her here by the hair, if necessary, when it became painfully apparent Dean's condition was going downhill all on its own now and this did seem to be the perfect opportunity to get his way without taking any blame for it. Not wanting to face his brother's wrath for letting the woman near him when they knew there was nothing she could do but needing to know how much worse Dean really was getting as the hours dragged by, he just opted for the easy way out and left the decision up to the person that would probably end the entire inquisition before it ever got started. Knowing Dean was not only awake but listening to every word being said and also knowing that his brother thought doctors to be one step up from reapers and didn't want to be touched by either one in his lifetime again, he threw him the cue he was almost sure Dean would pick up on.

"Well, I guess that's up to Dean, although I think he may have already fallen asleep and…" Sam started to say, but before he could even finish the entire sentence, his brother's raspy voice cut his own off and Sam nearly fell on the floor when he heard what it had to say.

"Will you let her come all the way in and close the damn door Sam? I'm freezing over here."

"Oh hey… you are awake," Sam tried to feign surprise as he slammed the door shut and turned his back to Alice to sit alongside his brother on the bed, giving him that sharp, _'what the hell are you doing?'_ look when he realized Dean actually wanted the doctor there. He didn't like the look he got back as the dueling sets of hazel eyes met, the look that said _'I have a plan' _behind what was clearly a pain-filled gaze scaring Sam in more ways than one.

Ignoring the interaction between the two men that obviously had some kind of unspoken language only they themselves understood, Alice crossed the room to take up a spot at Dean's other side and started digging through her bag of tricks. Rising from the bed to let his brother take the lead with what Sam considered the worst dance partner Dean could have picked, he just walked as far away as he could and started pacing, chewing heavily on the skin at the tips of his fingers now that he had already eaten away at all the nails there. Watching and listening, he hated seeing that familiar frown that started on the woman's face when she took his blood pressure; the frown that seemed to deepen when she listened to his heart and lungs as the cold metal against his already cold skin made Dean shirk away slightly at the touch.

"Too cold?" Alice asked; needing to break the oppressive silence that had overtaken the room in the very short time she had been there. Through half-opened eyes Dean just fluttered his lids somewhat and 

shook his head in confirmation, not wanting to exert the energy required to speak. She smiled at him gently, the first genuine smile she had let spread across her face since entering the room. "I'm sorry. I'm almost done."

Forcing his body to comply with the doctor's wishes, Dean let her listen to what was going on inside just about every inch of his torso, then let her shine a brain-piercing light directly into his eyes that did nothing for the dull ache starting to build in his head and topped off the ordeal with a Herculean effort to open his parched mouth so she could look down his throat, not really sure of what she may be hoping to find down there other than the sand he was sure was there. He breathed a slight sigh of relief when he thought she was through, until she started sliding her hands back up the heavy hoodie he wore. He found that he actually welcomed her warm fingers and palms on his cold flesh that seemed to shudder nearly non-stop now instead of the cold metal, his body unable to find the ability to warm itself anymore. He could feel her exerting a light pressure in various areas of his somewhat clenched abdomen, paying no attention to the occasional twinge here and there, until her hands wandered their way to a spot just below his ribs on his left and that time, he couldn't hold back the nearly agonized groan that escaped and as his entire body went rigid, he squeezed his eyes tightly closed and tried rolling to his side to curl in on himself.

"That hurt?" She softly questioned with absolutely no hint surprise in the tone, almost as if she had fully expected the reaction she had gotten.

"Nah, I'm just ticklish there," Dean tried playing it off as he mumbled through somewhat heavy breaths and as he felt Sam's weight fall back onto the bed right next to him and could see that worried stare without even looking up, he just decided it was time to let his mind go and tried blocking everything else she may try to do to him out.

"That's ok, I think I'm done abusing you for now," Alice gently patted him on the back he now had turned to her, dropping the compassionate gaze and replacing it with a more urgent glare as she lifted her face up to Sam and rose from the bed. Taking a few short steps away from the brothers, she pointed at the younger of the two and beckoned him to come forward with her bent finger. Once face to face, she addressed him with what she thought was just enough volume for him to hear. "Better, huh? He's not better Sam. In fact, he's quite the opposite."

"But… he seemed better," Sam lied, knowing his brother was far from better but not knowing just how bad he really had gotten until that pained cry Dean had obviously let slip out echoed throughout his head while he and Alice spoke.

"I was listening for a long time Sam, but not once did I hear his heart take on a normal rhythm. It's beating too hard, too fast and entirely too erratically and I'm not sure how much more strain it can take," she spoke quickly and with a definitive purpose, hoping the younger man would actually listen to what she was saying and heed her warning. Seeing him open his mouth to speak, she continued her train of thought without giving him any opportunity to respond. "That arrhythmia is going to become a serious condition and needs to be addressed now, that and the fact that he's starting to dehydrate and his spleen is pretty swollen shows just how rapidly his condition is deteriorating, which leads me to what brought me over here in the first place. You know, I couldn't help but notice that big, noisy, pick-up truck that was parked just outside your door earlier and imagine my surprise when I saw it leave without either one of you in it. I vaguely remember you promising me you'd get Dean to a hospital the first chance you got, or was I just dreaming that part of our conversation."

"I can explain that," Sam started to say, his mind trying to do some pretty quick thinking.

"Please do because I'm dying to know why Dean's still here and not in the emergency room where he belongs," Alice sarcastically demanded the second the rather bewildered hunter offered.

"That call that I made earlier was to a close family friend of ours. I told him what was going on, figuring we'd need a place to stay for a little while once this all got straightened out. When I told him what was happening to Dean, he said he was coming to help us. I told him the roads were bad and we were pretty much stuck here for the time being but he didn't care. He said he'd get here and he did…"

"That's great Sam, but it still doesn't answer the question, does it?"

"I'm getting to that," he told her with a slight hint of irritation. He had his excuse all worked out in his head and needed to get it entirely out before he started doubting it. How could he convince her if he if he didn't believe what he was saying himself? "Even with chains on his tires it took him nearly four hours to make a two hour trip, that's how bad the roads still are. He didn't want to pile Dean into the truck and blindly head out if we couldn't even make it into town so he decided to leave us here where it's warm and dry to test the roads on his own. I think he figured if anything else happened, at least you would still be here to help us. The last thing Dean needs is to be stuck in a ditch on the side of the road in the middle 

of nowhere with nobody around but us should something like this happen."

Sam bowed his head slightly and frowned just enough for his cheeks to sprout his boyish dimples and gave her the longest face he could muster but smiled internally when he saw the look she gave him as he perfectly played on her heartstrings, the thought that they trusted her enough to rely on her that much hitting her in right in the motherly part of her ego. She let her harsh stare soften a little when Sam's eyes started to mist and rested a comforting hand on his arm, remaining silent long enough for him to collect himself.

"I guess that does make the most sense, doesn't it? I'm sorry Sam; I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just worried about the two of you, that's all."

"I know… and I thank you for that… we both thank you for that."

"Start getting some water into him… and lots of it, ok?" She drifted towards the door as she spoke, wanting to stay but sensing Sam needed to be alone.

"I'll try," Sam whole-heartedly told her, knowing full well that that would be another uphill battle he was going to have in the next few minutes against his brother's iron will.

"Try hard Sam… and get your asses out of here the second your friend gets back, please," she nearly begged as she wrapped her hand around the doorknob, turned and pulled. Stepping back out into the frigid air, she gave the harried young man one last reassuring smile.

"Yes ma'am."

"I'll be in my room if you two need anything," she continued in her apologetic tone as she made to leave, throwing Sam one last comment that made his already spent brain even more nervous when he weighed its implications. "Just stick your head out the door and I'll come."

"Thanks, I will," shutting the door at the watchful woman's admission, all he could do was rest his forehead against the wood and try to figure out what to do next.

"Sammy, were you crying?" Dean finally spoke when he heard nothing coming from his brother's direction in the longest time. "I'm touched."

"It worked, didn't it?" Sam quickly shot back his answer when Dean's voice startled him out of his thoughts, not even realizing he was still awake. "I had to do something to make her believe me."

"I think you bullshit better than I do, little brother," he gave the younger man the out for what was quickly becoming a potentially chick-flicky moment; pretty sure the emotional display Sam had shown hadn't been entirely for show. "Hell, you nearly had me convinced too."

"You know what she meant by 'just stick your head out the door', don't you?" Sam needed to turn the subject away from his brief moment of weakness to other, much more important things and decided to start with that ominous realization first.

"Yeah, I know exactly what she meant. She meant she'd be watching us," Dean huffed, not really caring at the moment what the woman decided to do because he had plans of his own. Even with them semi-whispering, he had heard nearly every word the doctor had said and her synopsis of his condition to Sam did nothing more than confirm what he already knew was going on inside his own body every time he felt his heart pounding at varying speeds inside his chest and scaring him nearly half to death every time it felt like skipping a beat altogether. That didn't matter much to him anymore either because if his suspicions were correct, he wouldn't be in the room much longer anyway. All he needed to do was dodge Sam's inevitable questions until Bobby got there and he was pretty sure he'd be home free. Dodging his watchful little brother would prove to be easier said than done though because as he laid in the bed watching Sam briskly pace the floor, he knew his watchdog younger sibling was working up a full head of steam and was about ready to blow it right at him.

"Hey Sammy… I'm kinda cold. Any chance you could give me a pair of sweatpants or something?" Dean asked for the garment in a near beg, hoping to quell what was clearly anger mixed with a heavy dose of dread running through Sam's mind.

The younger brother shot an indignant look at his older sibling and turned his back to him, huffing in what sounded like disgust as he started digging through both duffels. Pulling out a pair of dark gray pants to match the hoodie already warming Dean's frigid body, Sam nearly shoved them into his chest as he glared and Dean was totally taken aback by the sudden display of attitude he seemed to be getting thrown at him for what he was sure was no good reason.

"How long, Dean?"

'_Ah shit, here it comes,'… _"How long what, Sam?" He responded rather casually to his brother's angered tone.

"Don't play stupid with me because I'm really not in the mood for it. How long has your heart rate been 

fucked up… and how long were you planning on waiting until you told me?"

"What makes you think I had a clue?"

"Oh, maybe the fact that one minute you didn't want Alice anywhere near you and the next minute you were inviting her in like she was a personal strip-o-gram sent to you on your birthday. So, I'll ask again Dean, how long?"

"Eew… I think I'll pass on the Dr. Alice striptease if…" he started, but the second he saw the look on Sam's face that was nothing less than deadly serious, he quickly changed his tune. "Just since I dropped ten pounds in the bathroom, Sam… and what good would it have done to say anything anyway? Besides, I was kinda hoping it would just go away," he confessed without looking in Sam's direction again, the heavy stare that he knew had fallen on him making him more uncomfortable than he already was.

"Just go away… you really thought it would just go away?" He asked his older brother in a sheer state of disbelief at what he could only attribute to either delirium or stupidity.

"Well… yeah, I did," Dean semi-whined, taking his own much needed turn at changing the subject and preying on Sam's escalating fears for his well-being to do it. "Can we not argue about it right now, please? My head's really startin' to throb and I'm gettin' pretty tired. Any chance you could get me some water and just let me pass out for a little while? I can barely keep my eyes open anymore."

Eyeing Dean with nothing less than total skepticism at his complaining, Sam hurriedly stormed off to the bathroom; ranting something under his breath that Dean probably could have echoed word for word had he been able to hear it. By the time he had returned, he found his brother lying fully on his back in a half-sitting position, waiting patiently for the water Sam was bringing him. Dean could clearly see there were a million and one things Sam still needed to get off his chest poised behind his eyes but he held them back on the off chance that Dean's slight complaint had been a real one and not just made to shut the younger brother up for the time being. Taking the plastic cup Sam thrust at him, Dean drank the water inside like a man that had been roaming a barren desert for days before tossing it empty on the nightstand and Sam found he couldn't hold his tongue anymore.

"What the hell are you up to Dean? The last time you drank water that fast you were just coming off a two day drunk," he scowled as he spoke, unable to decipher what Dean may be thinking.

"Sam, I can barely hold my head up. How could I possibly be up to something?" Rolling his body away from Sam as he buried his face in his pillow and pulling the comforter up to his chin to wrap himself in its warmth, he turned his brain off, letting anything else his aggravated little brother may have said go in one ear and out the other as he tried to get some much needed sleep before Bobby returned, knowing he would need all the energy he could get.

Bobby sat in the library in a near state of shock that his mission was almost complete and it was still only 10:30 in the morning. It had taken him longer to actually travel the nearly eleven miles to the place after taking the chains off his tires than it had to find the information he had come there in search of. The main highway into town had been just as treacherous as the ones he had taken from Iowa to reach the brothers in that cursed motel room they were trapped in but once he reached the small city's limits, the roads were clean and clear now that there were buildings to block the effects of the howling winds and with salt scattered over nearly every inch of pavement to eliminate what ice was forming, driving was practically a breeze. After nearly forty-five minutes of slipping and sliding on icy blacktop with his knuckles clenched so tightly around his steering wheel his palms were sweating and his fingers had started to ache, the city streets were something of a blessing to navigate.

Reaching the library just as they were about to open, he quite obviously started his search with the newspaper archives. In a town that rarely saw worse than an occasional car taken out for a joyride by some wayward teen or the more frequent bar-room brawl that ended in the arrest of some drunken fool that wouldn't remember hitting on the wrong woman to start the ruckus in the morning, he found the information he needed fairly quick. Considering the magnitude of Jeannie's tragic death, it had been plastered across the front page of the small town's local paper almost immediately after it had happened, the first article printed singing the young girl's praises and mourning the pillar of the community she would never become. Everyone that knew her had loved her and everyone was horrified at her untimely and very brutal demise at the hands of what had to be some crazed, transient madman.

That had been the February 13th paper. By the February 14th edition, the tune had changed just a little 

as sketchy details started coming out about the actual cause of death but the majority of the facts of the case remained vague and mostly unchanged. There had been no hint of what had really happened to the girl behind that closed door nor had there been any mention of the baby she had carried in either report. That minor detail the police were apparently keeping to themselves for the time being in the hopes of holding the proverbial ace up their sleeves.

By the printing of the February 15th paper, the autopsy had been complete and police had finally issued an official report after two days of frantic yet fruitless searching in the hopes that someone would come forward with any information on the missing infant when all of their attempts at locating the child had failed. Jeannie Hutchinson was dead, her infant child was missing, and police had absolutely nothing to go on. It had taken Bobby only fifteen minutes to rummage through three days of newspapers but he still didn't have the information he was looking for. Until he came to the February 16th paper, that is.

Four days after the young girl's untimely demise, her parents had taken out a nearly quarter-page obituary, not only in remembrance of their daughter's happy childhood and young adult life but to basically say that they had forgiven whoever had forced such unspeakable cruelties on their baby girl before begging the monster that had taken their grandchild and last remaining piece of Jeannie from them to return him or her unharmed. In smaller print just below a black and white photo of an innocently smiling teenager whose life had held such promise was the information Bobby had been so desperately searching for. Services were scheduled to be held in Eau Claire, a town nearly thirty miles to the east, but had to be postponed when a fierce winter storm had torn through the area, dropping over a foot of snow across most of the southwestern portion of the state. After days of waiting for the roads and grounds to be cleared, little Jeannie Hutchinson had finally been laid to rest on February 20th, 1983, over a full week after her tragic death. At least her body had been laid to rest because it was clear now that she had left something of herself behind, something that was slowly killing Dean.

With a definite direction in mind and hopefully a quick end to the Winchester's current troubles in sight, the veteran hunter debated with himself what he should do next. Not wanting to head in blindly in the middle of what promised to be a freezing cold night to dig through what would most definitely be hard, frozen ground, he considered driving what could potentially be a very long trip east to Eau Claire to at least locate the girl's actual gravesite amongst all the others. He had a pretty good idea that he'd be clearing away a relatively deep pile of snow before he even hit solid ground which would make what he had to do to get to her corpse twice as hard. Using his trip from Motel Hell to downtown Menomie as a gauge, he figured it to be a nearly two hour drive to the cemetery, assuming the roads east were as bad as the roads west were and, after being up since early morning the day before, Bobby decided it was probably just time to call it a day, pack it in, and wait for nightfall. He really was too damn tired to do much else at this point anyway.

Dragging his weary bones out to his truck, he started making his way back the way he had come, the short time since his arrival at the public library not changing the road conditions much, if any at all. He took the return trip a little slower than the initial drive in and pulled up to the door of room eight at nearly noon, the short detour to a local sandwich shop holding him up nearly an additional half hour. Intent on doing nothing more than eating and crashing for a few hours before he would have to head back out into the frigid night, he doggedly walked to the door and nearly jumped from his own skin when it was thrown open hard before he could even make a fist to knock on it.

"Aw hell, what's wrong now?" He hesitantly asked when he caught the anxious look in Sam's eyes as he pushed past him to enter the room and kicked the door shut behind him, the lump on the bed that was clearly shivering under a mound of blankets telling him that the older Winchester was at least still breathing. Motioning in Dean's direction with the slight cock of his head, he posed the next obvious question he didn't really want to ask, but had to anyway. "He's ok, isn't he? Jeannie didn't stop by for brunch while I was gone or anything, did she?"

"No Bobby, he's just sleeping and has been for the last couple hours. We do have a slight problem though… well, maybe a little more than a slight problem," Sam started telling him in as hushed a voice as he could keep, clearly agitated by the way he paced the floor and chewed on his lower lip now that his fingers no longer had much left to satisfy his nervous habit.

"Well, you wanna stop trying to wear a hole in that carpet and enlighten me on what I missed? How much trouble could the two of you have gotten in in the three hours I've been gone when you can't even leave the room? Wait, never mind… that was a dumb question," he rolled his eyes as he tiredly dropped into a chair, hoping Sam would do the same across from him, which he annoyingly did not.

"Remember that doctor I told you about? The one that came over here to check him out after we tried to 

leave?" Sam began in barely a whisper, not wanting to wake his brother from the sleep he seemed to be so restfully lounging in.

"Yeah, I vaguely remember. What about her?" Bobby questioned as he tapped his fingers rather impatiently on the table while Sam continued to nervously pace the floor. "Would you just get to the point please? The suspense is killing me."

"When she was here this morning, I kinda promised her I'd get Dean to the emergency room as soon as the roads were clear enough to drive into town. She must have assumed they were when you showed up a couple hours later because she came by to see why we didn't leave with you when you took off for the library. I told her you wanted to make sure the roads were clear before we even attempted taking him anywhere but we'd get him out of here as soon as you got back," Sam rambled out the information so fast his thoughts couldn't keep up with his words and when he paused for a second to focus, Bobby interjected his own two-cents into the conversation.

"So? If she shows up again we'll just tell her the roads are impassable and I nearly ended up in a ditch with the dozen or so other cars that are all stranded out there before I decided to turn around and come back. What's she gonna do, call the cops?"

"She might, considering…" Sam tried to finish but the tired man just cut him off again.

"Considering what? Even if they did show up, which they probably won't, they can't make either one of you go anywhere you don't wanna go anyway," Bobby's exhaustion-fueled irritation was starting to show as the timbre in his voice rose with its volume, causing the apparently sleeping man on the bed to start stirring. "Is that what's got your panties all up in a bunch? And here I thought you had bad news."

"You didn't let me finish what I was trying to tell you," Sam took a deep breath and tried to remain calm now that he had seemingly gotten Bobby riled and Bobby recognized the fear hidden behind Sam's wide eyes when he took a second to actually look into them. Taking in a deep breath and trying to calm his own rattled nerves down when it became obvious that Sam had much more to tell that the elder man was pretty sure wasn't going to be pleasant, he threw his hands up in acknowledgement that he was being an asshole and decided to let the young man speak his entire piece.

"Ok, what else is there that you didn't tell me that could make this doctor lady go all postal on you two?"

"She said his body is starting to put too much strain on is heart and that she didn't know how much more it could take. He's still bleeding from somewhere too because right after you left, he…" Sam tried to tell Bobby not only what Alice had told him but what had initiated Dean's allowance of her most recent examination of him in the first place and not really wanting to hear the grim news again, Dean decided it was time to end that explanation before it even began.

"Hey Bobby, you're back," he stated through a rather loud yawn as he stretched his arms to their fullest extent to make it look like he hadn't been awake since the older man had entered the room, which he had been, listening to every word they had said. Turning his attention to his near-frenzied brother, he pulled his body slowly into a sitting position on the bed and casually smiled at him. "Sam, would you please stop obsessing about Alice already? You're giving me a headache."

"Dean, you know she's probably sitting there staring out the window right now, debating on whether or not she should come over here to see if we're packing up to leave. Bobby's excuse about the roads may work for now, but how the hell are we going to explain things when he leaves alone again later?"

Dean sat silently still for a moment as he seemingly pondered Sam's question before carefully standing up slowly enough that his world stayed relatively secure on its axis, his eyes never leaving his own feet until he was sure he could train their gaze up without sending everything around him in merry-go-round motion. When he was pretty sure he was going to stay up as opposed to falling back down, he pulled the comforter from the bed and wrapped it around himself tightly to keep in what little warmth his body still possessed. With the subtlest of smiles at the two other men in the room, he started in motion what he hoped he wouldn't sorely regret. "Then I say we just go dig her up now."

"Boy, it is broad daylight outside and I'm too damn tired to be digging through the frozen ground by myself right now. I ain't slept a wink since I got up yesterday morning at the crack of dawn expecting your two sorry asses to show up, then I spent most of the afternoon and night trying to figure out what the hell was going on in here before nearly killing myself driving up from Iowa to bail your butts out of trouble again. Whether we do this now or later ain't gonna matter and if Alice don't like it, tough shit," Bobby couldn't seem to stop his emphatic rejection of Dean's suggestion, a rarely heard whine sprouting out somewhat in his tone.

Had Dean felt even the slightest bit better, he probably would have laughed at the pathetic grumble coming from the man sitting at the table, but he knew that Sam was right about one thing, they didn't 

need another run-in with the well meaning doctor. He also knew he wanted out of that room and he wanted out of it now, so he decided to persist. "Sammy can do the digging then."

"Have you lost your mind or has lack of oxygen to your brain made you delirious?" It was Sam's turn to respond his brother now, the mere suggestion that they leave him alone totally out of the question. "We can't just go and leave you here alone. Do I really need to remind you of what happened the last time I tried that?"

"Who said anything about leaving me here alone? Alice won't bother me if I'm not here, so…"

Dean was done arguing and decided it was now or never. Grabbing the motel room key from the spot Sam had left it on the nightstand next to him and digging it hard into the flesh of his palm, he took in the deepest breath he could and stomped towards the exit, his sudden action leaving his brother and their closest friend not only speechless but motionless just long enough to open door and slide through it into the frigid air outside. He took long, steady strides and was nearly shocked himself when he made it to Bobby's truck parked next to the ice-coated Impala unscathed. Reaching for the passenger door handle, he jerked hard and hoped it to be unlocked, his sock-clad feet unprotected from the snow still blanketing the parking lot. As he saw his brother nearly sprinting in his direction with Bobby right behind him from the corner of his eye, he nearly fell backwards when the latch gave and the door opened wide and by the time Sam reached him, he was safely in the cab of the truck and out of the biting wind. Dean smiled at them both when they just stood there staring at him totally dumbfounded.

"Can we just go finish this bitch off now, please."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

It wasn't very often that Sam Winchester was rendered speechless but as he stood there in the bitter cold with the biting winds whipping around his head and blowing his bangs into his eyes hard enough to make them start to tear, there was absolutely nothing at this very particular moment in time he could think of to say. Bobby, on the other hand, was not as stupefied as the younger brother had been and had no problem expressing his thoughts, especially when one look at Sam told him that he was unable to mutter a single sound.

"I think you better start spilling some guts boy before I pull you out of that truck and spill them all over the snow myself," the elder hunter grumbled, not out of anger but out of nothing less than sheer surprise.

"I think someone else already has dibs on my guts Bobby and the sooner we introduce her to Morton, Exxon and Zippo the better," Dean smirked as he spoke, yet the tone was a somber and serious one. "Besides, I'm feeling up for a road trip anyway."

"And how exactly is it that you are suddenly perky enough take a road trip with us without your internal organs being turned into soup?" Bobby had to ask considering it was the next obvious question burning a hole through not only his head but Sam's as well. As Dean was about to open his mouth to answer, a light bulb suddenly went off in Sam's head and as if someone had stuck a hot poker into the center of his back and gave it a sharp twist, he blurted out what he was sure the answer had to be because it was the only thing that made any kind of crazy sense.

"The key… it's the key, isn't it?"

With the slight cock of his head and subtle raising of his brows, Dean said nothing as he dangled the infernal metal object that it sickened him to touch but in all reality held his life in its unholy grasp from the keychain it was attached to and gently shook it before both men's eyes indicating to Sam that he was absolutely right. Not wanting to lose his grip on the only thing that kept him attached to his own personal dead zone, he quickly closed a fist back around it and held it tight in his palm as he relaxed back into the seat in the center of the truck's cab, closing his eyes and waiting patiently for both men to climb inside. When neither his brother nor his surrogate mentor made a move, he pried open one eye and glared at them both somewhat mischievously. "Well, are you coming or not? I wanna be chowing down on greasy fries and slamming shots at that strip club down the road tonight. You gonna grab a coat Sammy? It's kinda cold out here to be digging' up a corpse without one?"

"How'd you know Dean? How'd you know you wouldn't kill yourself by walking out that door with just that key in your hand?" Sam said without moving a muscle, the cold not seeming to even slightly bother him although he'd been standing in it for how long he didn't know just staring in disbelief at his brother sitting in the truck like a little kid waiting to head to Disney World on the annual family vacation. The air may have been cold but Sam's glare was definitely colder and one of the two gave Dean a sudden chill.

"I didn't, not for sure anyway," he stated back softly, knowing full well Sam's anger at Dean's kamikaze move was starting to rise. Needing to squash it before it started coming out directly at him, he continued before Sam could make any effort to speak. "I couldn't sit in that room for another minute waiting to become the main course on some angry dead chick's steak tartare buffet anymore. I had to try something, little brother. When you shoved that key into my hand the last time we tried making a run for it somehow it was like being back inside even though I hadn't made it back inside yet. I had a pretty good idea the key was part of the room and as long as I'm holding it I'm still connected to it but I didn't know for sure until just now when I tried it."

"Would it have killed you to let us in on your little secret first before you went raced all commando to the truck and nearly gave me a heart attack?" Bobby asked this time, his own annoyance clearly written across his face.

"Probably not, but would either one of you have even considered letting me try it?" Dean asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

As expected, "NO," was spoken in unison by both men and at that moment they knew they'd been had by Dean. They both also knew that now that Dean was out of the room and inside the truck there was no way in hell they were getting him back out and back into that motel room until Jeannie was nothing but ash.

"Get your coat Sam… looks like we're in for a long afternoon," Bobby stated as he slumped is shoulders, too tired to argue anymore and in all reality wanting this over almost as much as Dean did so he could just stop killing himself with worry and get some much needed sleep.

"Want me to drive?" Dean offered, the adrenaline suddenly coursing through his veins giving him a burst of energy Sam hadn't seen in his brother for nearly two days now.

"NO!" was again bellowed out in unison by both men and Dean couldn't suppress a chuckle as Sam turned back to the room to not only get a coat but close and lock the door as Bobby disappeared behind the truck and started rummaging through the bed in search of something Dean had no idea what.

With a coat on his back and a pair of boots in his hands, Sam climbed into the truck first, shoving Dean hard to the side to make room for himself and nearly knocking him over before slamming the passenger's side door closed with a little more force than he may have intended to but at the moment really didn't care. Dropping the pair of heavy boots he carried into Dean's lap, he gave the harshest scowl he could to his brother as Dean tried correcting his comforter-clad body's position on the seat.

"Put those on… just in case," was all Sam would say and the tone it was said in told Dean not to say anything else until his little brother asked.

"Thanks, Sammy."

For what seemed like an eternity of silence they sat and waited as Bobby rifled through items in the back of the truck, a curse word leaking out every once in a while followed by a soft thud that made it clear that whatever the man was looking for, he just couldn't seem to find. Sam was about ready to get out to aid in the search when he heard a triumphant "Aha!" echo through the air then saw the older man rounding the back of the pickup with something in his hands. Within seconds, Bobby had taken his expected place behind the wheel but before he made any effort to start the engine, he turned in Dean's direction and gave the younger man a look that probably could have turned anyone to stone. No words were spoken by anyone in the cab as Bobby grabbed Dean's wrist in one hand while he started pulling the ends of the roll of duct tape he held in the other hand up with his teeth and once he had a good piece of the roll pulled apart, he looked Dean directly in the eye and gave him the simplest of orders.

"Open your hand boy," he commanded, turning Dean's wrist so that the appendage was palm up and without the slightest bit of protest, Dean did just as he was ordered to because he was honestly too tired to anything else but comply. With the key resting in Dean's hand, Bobby wrapped the end of the tape around the palm first, and then the entire hand in layer upon layer of thick, gray tape until the roll was nearly gone. With an interestingly satisfied look on the eldest hunter's face, he smiled wryly at both brothers before tossing the remaining cardboard behind the seat.

"Just makin' sure that key don't go anywhere. Ok boys, I think we're ready to go now."


End file.
